The Darkest Hour
by The Marvelous Mad Madam Mim
Summary: The darkest moments are often just before the dawn. The Rebels must cope with their loss. Story 3/4 in The Dark Side Series.
1. Chapter 1

"_An ancient shall come into being…"_

_~Tantomile's Prophecy [Full Version of the Vision is located in Chapter 10 of Strange One]_

The sounds of the human fire brigade pierced the sky, just as the heavens opened and loosed a torrent of rain. Alonzo stared at what was left of the yard, his eyes filled with sorrow at the sight of his beloved home, which was now little more than ash.

"We will rebuild," Munkustrap assured him, giving his younger brother a comforting pat on the shoulder.

Alonzo nodded, although his heart was still filled with despair. They could rebuild, but nothing could undo the horror of that morning—the moment he saw Cassandra's lifeless form sprawled across the field of war.

"I would like to bury her near the old oak," Alonzo spoke. He didn't mention the dark queen by name, but Munkustrap knew whom he was referring to.

"I can't allow it," Munku said quietly, his brow hardening into a firm line. "That section is reserved for the burial of Jellicles."

"She was a Jellicle," Alonzo said softly.

"She was a traitor," Munku reminded him. "And we have no place to bury traitors. Take her body to the edge of the yard and dump it. She will receive no burial rites."

"I can't just let her rot in the ditch," Alonzo replied, although his voice still did not register above a whisper.

"She doesn't deserve proper burial," Munku said sternly, turning away as if his word settled the matter.

Alonzo's eyes narrowed angrily. He wouldn't toss her aside, like some dirty Pollicle. No matter how much ill-will had passed between them, Alonzo could not allow her to be treated so dishonorably, even if she was dead.

* * *

><p>Munkustrap gave an angry sigh as he moved through the yard, silently assessing the damage of the flames. Sections of the yard had been reduced to ash, but there was still plenty to rebuild from.<p>

Still, many cats were missing—several had run into the woods, seeking shelter from the fire. Others had disappeared into the streets of London, presumably never to be heard of again.

Demeter was among the missing—as well as the kits. Munkustrap felt a prick of fear as he considered the loss of his family, but something deeper was gnawing at his mind. Eventually, Demeter would learn of Bombalurina's death—it wouldn't take her long to realize that he was responsible. He had to find a way to explain this.

He would simply tell her what he had told Alonzo—Cass and Bomba charged, he merely defended himself. It was a casualty of war. She would understand.

Of course, he had to find his mate first.

"Plato!" He called out. The young tom appeared. Munkustrap looked toward the dark and foreboding forest. "Organize the remaining Jellicles into search parties. Then go into the woods and find those who fled during the fire."

Plato gave a curt nod and rushed off to find the others.

* * *

><p>"What happened to you?" Jellylorum's voice was filled with concern.<p>

"It's nothing," Roary shrugged it off. Jellylorum quickly took Roary's head in her paws, turning it to inspect a deep red gash just below his eye.

"A centimeter to the right and you'd be the next Growltiger." The calico queen referred to the infamous one-eyed Terror of the Thames.

Roary chuckled at the comment, "You've got quite a scar yourself."

He traced the claw marks that ran up her side, across her ribcage. Jellylorum gave a small shriek and jumped back, blushing profusely.

"Ticklish, are we?" Roary arched his eyebrow playfully.

"I-I'm just not used to being touched." Jellylorum instantly cringed at her own words. "I didn't mean it the way it sounds."

"I know," Roary gave a small smile. He added softly, "But they're both true."

Again, Jellylorum's cheeks were stained a blood red. She flipped her whiskers carelessly, as if warding off the conversation. "That doesn't matter. We've got to find the others."

"That would require going back to the yard," Roary gave a grimace. "I don't really fancy that idea."

Jellylorum gave the tom a light cuff on the head. In truth, she shared his sentiments, but her sense of duty would not allow her to run away. She had a family to protect—that is, if they survived the fire.

"C'mon," she moved through the darkened street, carefully avoiding the puddles left by the rain. She and Roary had darted into the alleyway several hours earlier to hide from the flames and the downpour. "We've been gone long enough as it is."

The calico queen easily found her way back to the yard—even if her memory had failed, the smell of smoke was easy to follow.

Plato was calling roll when they arrived. The young tom's face split into a smile, "Ah, Jellylorum and Roary Huffersnuff. Good to see you're still alive!"

"Wish I could say the same," Roary muttered under his breath. Jellylorum heard the remark and gave him a sharp jab in the ribs to silence the wayward tom.

"Haven't you done enough fighting today?" She hissed. Roary merely gave a lopsided grin, but he remained quiet.

"Now," Plato returned to his roll. Apparently he had not heard Roary's comment. "There are fifteen Jellicles still unaccounted for."

Jellylorum scanned the crowd for her own family. She did not see any of them; she assumed they were among the missing.

"We'll split into three groups," Plato announced. "One group will take to the streets, the other two will search the woods. Meet back here at nightfall."

Everyone shuffled around, quickly forming three search parties as Plato had directed.

"Where are we going?" Roary asked, turning to Jellylorum with expectant eyes.

"I am going into the woods. You may go wherever you like," the queen joined Plato's group.

"I go where you go," Roary said simply, following her. Jellylorum rolled her eyes, but she did not comment. Roary's sudden decision to become her best friend was slightly aggravating to the calico queen, although she didn't know why. Perhaps it was because Jellylorum fancied herself as a cat who didn't need friends. Perhaps he was just annoying.

"Let's move out," Plato motioned to his group, leading them into the forest. The trees loomed forebodingly over them as they entered the darkened place. Not a single sound issued from the wood—it had the eerie silence of death, like the moment of stillness before the storm.

Jellylorum gave a shudder and quickly pushed such gloomy thoughts from her mind. Now was not the time to become a pessimist.

* * *

><p>Jemima stared down at her paws. They were covered in mud now, but underneath the grime still lay the blood of Bombalurina. She stood beside the stream that ran through the deep wood—she should wash off the grit, but if she did, she would lose the blood. As morbid as it sounded, those deep red stains were the last part of Bombalurina that Jemima had. She wasn't quite ready to let go yet.<p>

She sat there, contemplating the odd twist of fate as she waited for the others. She had been so consumed by her thoughts that she had gotten too far ahead of the group. She could no longer see them, but she knew they'd be there soon. So now she waited, her mind replaying the image of Bombalurina's death over and over again, like a demented carousel.

She wiped away a single tear that slid down her cheek, leaving a mark of mud and blood on her pale face. She knew she looked positively frightful, but she didn't care—right now she felt as pitiful as she looked.

How could her father do such a thing? He was a protector, not a destroyer—how could he take a life so easily? Jemima knew that it was war; it was either her father or Bombalurina—someone had to die. But a small part of her wondered, _Would I be this sad if Father had died instead?_

Jemima was instantly ashamed of her last thought—how could she think such a terrible thing? It was almost as bad as what her father did.

_What her father did_. A single action that would haunt her for the rest of her life. Long after the stains disappeared from her paws, the marks left on her soul would remain, as painfully fresh as the day she received them. Nothing could ever erase the horror she had witnessed. As much as she had loved her father, she now saw him as something completely different—a murderer. A monster.

* * *

><p>Alonzo waited patiently until the search teams left; then he took a spoon and went to the old oak tree. He would bury Cass before Munku returned. He didn't care if the Jellicle Leader found out—by then it would be too late. Munkustrap would certainly not dig up a body, even if it did belong to a traitor. No one in the Tribe would stand for such sacrilege, and despite his power, Munkustrap was still smart enough not to directly confront the entire Tribe.<p>

The ground was filled with rocks and Alonzo had to fight for every inch, but it was worth it. He wasn't there to protect Cassandra when he should have been; this could count as some small penance towards his crime of abandoning her. He couldn't ease the nagging feeling that all of this was his fault. After all, if he hadn't shut her out completely, she never would have left the tribe. Then she never would have joined the rebels and she most certainly would not have died in battle. It was all so horrific—how could one little argument have such devastating effects?

* * *

><p>"Where's Jemima?" Demeter asked, looking around fearfully.<p>

"She's not far ahead of us," Teathrice nodded in the general direction, taking a moment to quickly guide one of the kits back onto the trail.

"I can't see her," Demeter began to walk a little faster. "I don't like her being out of my sight."

"Calm down," Asparagus spoke soothingly. "Jemima's a smart kit. She won't get too far."

"I hear water," Victoria interrupted, her large ears swiveling towards the sound. She doubled her pace, following the trail and practically bounding into Jemima. She shouted back happily to the others, her loud voice having a jarring effect upon the small queen, "I found her!"

"Finally," Asparagus gave a sigh of relief when he saw the stream. They had been traveling for what seemed like hours now, goaded ever onward by Demeter's constant urging.

"Let's stop and drink," he announced, taking a moment to enjoy the cool water.

Teathrice dutifully herded the three youngest kits in front of her, allowing them to drink. Demeter merely sat beside her, staring ahead into the bleak landscape of trees.

"My feet are aching," Victoria said softly, gingerly lowering her tired paws into the stream. She gave a small sigh of relief, arching her back to stretch her worn muscles.

"Perhaps we should turn back," Asparagus suggested, turning to glance at the path behind them. "The others are probably looking for us."

"If they survived the fire," Teathrice said, taking Deuteronomus and holding him close.

Asparagus frowned at the comment, but he didn't say anything.

"Maybe we should just stay here," Victoria suggested. The thought of walking in any direction did not please her at all. "If there are survivors, then eventually they will find us."

Teathrice and Asparagus nodded in agreement. Both cast wary glances at Demeter, waiting for her opinion. The black and gold queen gave a heavy sigh, "I suppose you're right. We'll stay here tonight."

Victoria gave another audible sigh of relief at the announcement. Jemima stayed a few yards away from the group, as if trying to stay as far away as possible without being completely separated from them. Teathrice noticed this distance and Jemima's unsettling silence, but the grey queen wisely kept her thoughts to herself. She had seen the blood on the young queen's paws—death was an inevitable part of warfare, but it didn't make it any easier.

The grey queen lightly pulled Aleyn to her, enveloping the kit in a comforting hug. She had never had kits and had always regretted not being a mother, but in these days of uncertainty, it suddenly seemed like a blessing. She couldn't imagine the constant worries that ran through Demeter's tired mind.

"Tea!" Aleyn whined, wriggling away from the grey queen's grasp. "You're smothering me!"

"Oh, sorry dearest," Teathrice apologized, smiling softly at the kit's melodramatic nature. Of the three kittens, Aleyn was by far the most outspoken. Deuteronomus had developed the quiet, calm nature of his grandfather, and Catrice was painfully shy.

"Mama," Catrice whispered, sidling up to Demeter. "I'm hungry."

"I'll find something," Asparagus volunteered.

"I'll go with you," Teathrice volunteered. Asparagus looked at her as if she'd grown a second head.

"You?" He arched his eyebrow skeptically. "You're a housecat."

"I still know how to catch a field mouse," Teathrice replied haughtily. She brushed past him, "Let's go before it gets dark."

"I'll stay here with the kits," Victoria called after them. She had no intention of using her tired paws any more than she had to.

Aleyn bounded up to the white queen and nestled happily beside her. Deuteronomus moved closer, but still kept a respectful distance.

Demeter nudged Catrice towards Victoria with a heavy sigh. "I'll go check on Jemi."

Catrice scampered quickly over to Aleyn, wrapping her dark tail around herself and turning her wide kitten eyes to Victoria, "How will we get home?"

The fear in the baby's eyes absolutely broke Victoria's heart. She gently pulled the kit into a comforting hug, "Don't worry. Your daddy will find us soon, and then we will be safe."

"I hope he hurries," Catrice replied.

Victoria looked up at the forest. Night was coming soon; already dark shadows were forming in the treetops. "Me, too."

* * *

><p>Demeter sat next to her eldest daughter. There was a moment of silence. Finally, the black and gold queen spoke, "Do you want to talk about it?"<p>

"Not really," Jemima whispered, fresh tears forming in her eyes.

Demeter nodded. She gently wrapped a comforting arm around the young queen's shoulder. The familiar warmth and scent of her mother immediately caused Jemima to break down—there was something strong about Demeter's presence, something that told Jemima it was finally OK to cry, to be weak and lean on her mother's strength.

Demeter drew her daughter closer, silently comforting her in a way that only mothers can. Jemima didn't have to tell her what happened; Demeter already knew. She shared her daughter's pain and heartache, and she silently accepted her maternal role as the pillar of strength. She could cry later, when she was alone, when no one needed her to be strong. Right now, her daughter needed her, and that was all that mattered. Everything else was swept aside.

Eventually Jemima's tears subsided. She pulled way lightly, wiping away her tears and leaving more dark streaks on her pale face.

"I don't want to go back," Jemima said quietly, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "There's nothing left but blood and death."

Her voice cracked at the last word as Bombalurina's lifeless and horrified expression flashed across her brain.

Dem's face contorted in sorrow. Quietly, she spoke, gently laying a paw on her daughter's shoulder, "We have to go back, Jemi."

"We don't _have _to do anything," the young queen's voice filled with steel.

Demeter was shocked by her daughter's statement, "Jemima, what are you saying?"

Jemima simply stared at her mother. After a heavy pause, Demeter spoke again, "Where would we go? What would we do?"

"I don't care if I have to spend the rest of my life running from my father," Jemima replied bitterly. "It would still be better than looking him in the eye everyday and remembering what _he_ did."

Demeter ducked her head, "You don't know the whole story, Jemi. We are in the middle of a war—the rules change."

Jemima turned to look at her mother, her young face filled with shock and disgust, "In what world would that ever be acceptable? What good are rules if you throw them off whenever they don't suit your purpose? He swore to protect the Jellicle—he promised never to harm a single cat. And yet…yet he…he…he _killed_ her, Mother. I saw it—he just murdered her, right there in front of everyone! And she just…she just fell. And it was over. Just like that. He killed her."

Jemima's eyes glazed over with horror and sadness as she relived the moment of Bombalurina's death. Demeter reached for her daughter, so desperate to comfort her hurting soul, but something held her back. Bombalurina had been her sister, her greatest friend, her kindred spirit, her comfort in times of sadness and her companion in days of joy. But she still loved Munkustrap, and no matter how fanatical he'd become, Demeter couldn't bring herself to believe that he would ever take a life without justification.

The young queen saw the struggle in Demeter's eyes, and she knew that she could not ask her mother to betray her father. With a heavy sigh of finality, Jemima turned her eyes back to the setting sun, "I'm not going back."

* * *

><p>"We have tracks!" Plato called out urgently. The search party quickly gathered around him. He pointed out the markings, "Five adults, three kittens."<p>

"It has to be Demeter," Jellylorum nodded gravely.

"Let's go," Munkustrap pushed his way to the front of the pack, quickly trotting down the path. "Night will fall soon. Then the owls will come."

Everyone shuddered at the thought—they had all heard the horror stories of cats being taken off into the night by the sharp-taloned creatures. It was the worst death one could imagine.

The search party began calling out the names of the missing cats.

"Demeter! Jemima! Victoria!"

"Asparagus, can you hear us?"

"Teathrice! Teathrice!"

* * *

><p>Teathrice's ears perked up. She turned to Asparagus, "Did you hear that?"<p>

"Hear what?"

"Listen."

The faint sound of another cat's voice called out again.

"I think they're looking for us," Teathrice whispered.

"Good."

"Is it?" There was a wave of uncertainty in the grey queen's eyes.

"What do you mean?" Asparagus asked, his expression filling with confusion and concern.

"When we first escaped, I was so frightened," she spoke softly. "But then I thought maybe we were the only ones left, maybe we would have to start over. And…and suddenly I felt relieved."

She turned to him with worried eyes, "Isn't that awful? I mean, how could I wish such a thing? I feel terrible for even thinking it; I don't even know why I told you, I just…I don't know."

Asparagus didn't know what to say. He simply stared sadly at the grey queen. In truth, he knew exactly how she felt—he was actually a bit relieved that he wasn't the only one who'd thought such things.

The voice called again.

"We must get back to the others," Asparagus said quietly.

"Yes," Teathrice nodded, turning back towards the stream. The dejected slump of her slender shoulders sent a stab of pain through Asparagus' soul. For the thousandth time, he wondered how different things would be if Old Deuteronomy was still alive.

* * *

><p>Demeter's entire body tensed when she heard the search party calling her name. She turned back to her daughter with fearful eyes, "If you leave, you can never come back. You mustn't ever come back. Promise me."<p>

Jemima suddenly felt the fear rising in her stomach, "Mama, I—"

"Please," Demeter whispered urgently. "Promise that you will run as far away as you can and never look back."

"I'll come back."

"No. You can't," Demeter shook her head vehemently. "It's the only way you'll be safe. Now promise me."

Fresh tears welled up in Jemima's large eyes, but she nodded, "I promise."

Her mother nodded quickly, wrapping her daughter into a hug.

"I love you, more than anything else in this world," she whispered, her voice thick with tears and emotion.

"I know," Jemima said simply. It was true. Her mother was making the ultimate sacrifice by letting her go.

"Be good," Demeter warned in a maternal tone. "If you follow the setting sun, you'll reach the next town within a day or two. You'll be safe there. Find someplace to hide for the night—the owls will be out soon, and it will be too dangerous to travel."

"I will," Jemima nodded, taking in all of her mother's advice. She gave Demeter another hug. "Goodbye, Mama."

"Goodbye."

With that, Jemima dashed off into the woods, running until her sobs would not allow her to run anymore. She realized that she had not told her mother that she loved her, and this made her cry all the more.

* * *

><p>Demeter returned to the rest of the group with a downcast expression. Asparagus looked around. "Where's Jemima?"<p>

"Jemima is not coming back," Demeter replied in an emotionless voice. The moment Jemima dashed off into the woods-throwing one last small smile over her shoulder-Demeter had felt a sudden numbness in her soul. Funny, she'd always expected to feel pain whenever her heart broke. Apparently it was past the point of all feeling.

"What do you mean?" Teathrice was immediately concerned.

"She is not coming back," the black and gold queen repeated with a heavy sigh.

Suddenly they understood the meaning behind her words. A sad silence followed.

"Do you think she'll be OK on her own?" Asparagus asked quietly.

"Jemima is very strong," Demeter replied softly. "And very smart. She will do just fine."

The other cats nodded gravely. They knew that she was right—Jemima was a very capable feline. Still, she was so small, and the world was so big. It was a frightening thought.

The search party was closer now, calling their names, "Asparagus! Teathrice! Victoria, can you hear us?"

For a moment, the four adults looked at one another. Did they really want to go back?

It was Victoria who broke the silence, "We're over here!"

She cast an apologetic glance at the others. What choice did they have?

"Daddy!" Aleyn screeched with joy whenever she saw her father. The other two kits pounced on his as well, crying with relief. Teathrice noticed how Demeter's paw shot out instinctively, as if she wanted to pull them away, to shield them from their father, but she quickly withdrew. The grey queen said nothing.

Jellylorum rushed over to envelope her daughter and her son into a hug. "Thank Heaviside you're alive! I was so worried about you!"

Plato was at Victoria's side, gently asking if she was alright and inspecting her weary paws with delicate concern.

Teathrice simply stood there. She had no family, no close friends to rejoice at her survival. She was alone, just as she had always been. She just hadn't noticed how lonely it was until now.

* * *

><p>The loft was filled with a heavy, oppressive silence. Tugger had locked himself away in his room the instant they had returned; the rest of the rebels were sitting morosely beside one another in the main room, too devastated to speak and too desolate to grieve alone.<p>

Electra quietly sat beside Mistoffelees, gently placing his paw in hers. He didn't speak, but fresh tears flooded his eyes and he squeezed her paw in silent thanks.

"I can't believe they're gone," Pouncival was the first to speak. His voice cracked, "Cass—just this morning, she told me that she'd buy me a drink afterwards. A-a-and I was so certain that it would happen. I just knew she'd be back here, with us, and we'd all be OK."

Mungojerrie gave a heavy sigh, "They always tell ya to prepare for tha worst in battle, but nuffin' prepares ya for this."

"And Bombalurina," Pouncival whispered her name like a prayer. "I…I just…"

He immediately broke into a fresh onslaught of sobs, crying as if his heart would break.

"I didn't like her," Cetty admitted with a hoarse whisper. "But I never wanted her dead."

For some reason, this simple confession had a therapeutic affect—Cetty and Bombie had been notorious nemeses, and for her to admit such a thing was as close to a compliment as the red queen would ever receive.

Misto did not speak at first. After years of hiding the fact that she was his mother, he still couldn't tell the rest of the group. Still, he felt the need to say something.

"I…" he took a deep breath. "I loved her. She was my mother and I loved her."

Cetty looked around, slightly shocked by this admission-she didn't know that Bombalurina had ever been a mother, and she certainly didn't know that Misto was her kit. The others didn't seem phased. Apparently they knew.

Pouncival suddenly looked around, his eyes wide with fear.

"Where's Rumpleteaser?"

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's Note: She's baaaack! Has it really been a year since my last update? And TWO since the last "Dark Side" installation? Aiaiaia-bad author! For those who aren't "in the know", I've been busy writingproducing/directing/acting in two new webseries, both of which will air this fall. So all my creative juices have been geared towards screenwriting-however, I have never stopped writing fanfiction; I simply haven't been posting anything...and on another note-since has changed formatting, all of my original spacing for my stories has been screwed up. I will be taking them down and reposting them with new spacing, to preserve the original format. So I am asking that once I do take them down and replace them, please please please re-favorite those that you have on your lists. Not sure if any of my old Chickadees are still out there, but I certainly hope so! ~Mim._**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Teaser squeezed her eyes shut as she panted under the weight of the excruciating pain that now pulsed through her body. She looked down at her leg—it was a deep wound, one that would need medical attention.

She dragged herself forward and had to bite down on her forepaw to keep from screaming. She knew that she couldn't get very far in such condition. She'd heard the search parties leave, but she knew that they'd be back soon—night was falling. She decided to find a place to hide. Once everyone had gone to sleep, she could drag herself to safety.

_Think, Rumpleteaser_, she chided herself. _You know this yard better than anyone—where is the perfect place to hide?_

But the throbbing in her leg wouldn't allow her to think. All she could do was clutch her injured limb and try to steady her breathing.

_Mind over matter_. Macavity had taught her that, years ago. _Pain is a great motivator, and so is fear. Let adrenaline take over; let it push you past the physical limits of your body. It is your one survival mechanism, use it._

She would try to get as far as she could. Once she heard the search teams returning, she would find a place to hide. With the smoke and the rain and the rampant fear, it would be easy for her to go unnoticed.

_Pull yourself another inch. Clench your jaw to keep from screaming. Take a deep breath, pull again. Keep moving. Don't think about the pain. Don't look back. Just move._

* * *

><p>Coricopat rubbed his red-rimmed eyes, which were chafed and hazy from the smoke. He looked over at Tantomile, who simply gave a small smile. It was meant to be encouraging, but it was too sad. She always was a brave one, his sister—always trying to pretend that things didn't affect her, trying to be the stronger one.<p>

He gingerly took her paw, slowly drawing her closer to him and enveloping her into a hug. At first, she tensed, slightly shocked by his actions, but then Coricopat felt her relax. Suddenly, she gave a soft, muffled sob and her shoulders began to shake. Her brother simply held her until the tears had ebbed.

Tanto looked up at her twin, her eyes shining with more unshed tears, "What have we done?"

He didn't know how to answer, and that scared him more than anything. Tanto seemed just as lost as he was, but she continued, "We thought we were doing the right thing, but…so much suffering, so much death. Cori, what have we done?"

"We aren't responsible for this," Coricopat looked out at the smoldering yard.

"How are we not?" Tanto challenged. "We allowed this to happen. We could have—"

"We could have what, Tanto?" Her brother interrupted, gently but firmly. She was approaching hysteria and he knew he needed to curb it quickly. "What could we have done? Nothing. We may have powers, but we aren't that powerful. We couldn't have predicted this would happen, or that it would end like this."

"Perhaps I could have," she whispered softly. "After all, the prophecy—"

"You can't control it," he reminded her. "The future reveals itself when it wants to be revealed—not when _you_ want it to be revealed. You know that."

She gave a small nod of acquiescence. With a slight sniff, she wiped away the last of her tears, pulling away from her brother's grasp and sitting up straight. After a short silence, she spoke, "Misto did the right thing. I don't know how he did it—knocking everyone out like that—but it was the right thing. It saved many lives."

Coricopat nodded. "The rebels are not without honor."

Tanto turned to her brother once more, her eyes filled with worry, "But are we?"

He didn't answer. He didn't know.

A sudden shout came from one of the other cats, "They're back!"

The twins turned to see the search party enter the yard. Tantomile felt her heart leap into her throat as she whispered, "Teathrice."

As if on cue, the grey queen's gaze snapped onto Tanto's. Tantomile bounded to her, taking her into her arms with surprising warmth. Teathrice wasn't sure how to react—at one time, the two queens had been very close, but over the months things had changed. And Tantomile wasn't exactly the most expressive feline to begin with.

"You're alive," Tanto gave a small smile—one that actually reached her golden eyes. Despite her shock at this sudden onslaught of emotions, Teathrice felt a wave of relief pass over her. The grey queen wasn't as alone in this world as she'd thought. There were still cats who cared for her and rejoiced at her safe return.

Coricopat appeared over his sister's shoulder, "Tea, good to see you're still kicking."

Teathrice laughed at the quip, hugging him as well—which of course, surprised Coricopat, who simply shrugged and welcomed the female attention.

Then the grey queen noticed the yard. Her smile suddenly disappeared. As they'd fled, they had smelled the smoke and saw the dark billows drifting overhead, but she never imagined it would be this bad.

"It's gone," she whispered, her wide eyes taking in the charred remains of the dens.

Coricopat's mouth formed a determined line, "We will rebuild."

Teathrice simply shook her head, "But it will never be the same."

The twins exchanged mournful looks. They knew that Teathrice wasn't just talking about the dens. Nothing about Jellicle life would ever be the same again.

* * *

><p>Alonzo gave the ground one last pat with the spoon. It was obvious that there was a new grave, but he tried his best to conceal it anyways. He gingerly set the spoon aside and walked away. Perhaps when spring came, he could pick some lilacs for her grave. Cassandra always liked lilacs.<p>

A sudden sound jolted him from his reverie. He looked around cautiously.

Another movement. He quietly moved towards the sound, his heart pounding with fear and anticipation. He jumped over a small pile of boxes and landed face to face with Rumpleteaser.

The tiger striped queen immediately swiped at him, her claws barely missing his face. She let out a hiss.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Alonzo held up his paws.

"Oi've heard that before," Teaser growled. She still valiantly tried to move away.

Alonzo was immediately filled with pity for the petite tabby, "Here, let me help you."

"Oi dohn' need your help—"

"Well, you're getting my help, whether you like it or not," Alonzo strode forward purposefully. He easily picked Teaser up and tossed her over his shoulder.

"Oi!" Teaser cried out indignantly.

"Pipe down," Alonzo warned. "That accent of yours will give us away."

"Wot accent?" Teaser retorted hotly. "Oi _dohn'_ have an accent!"

Alonzo just rolled his eyes and trudged forward.

Teaser gave one last attempt to wriggle free, but Alonzo tightened his grip around her tiny waist. She heeded his warning and didn't shout this time, instead she gave an angry huff.

The black and white tom moved quickly and quietly through the rubble—even in its current devastation, he still knew this yard like the back of his paw. As Protector, he would be responsible for finding sleeping quarters for all the remaining Jellicles—he'd simply stash Rumpleteaser in an area where no one else would be quartered.

He found a small chest of drawers and gingerly laid her inside, "Stay here."

Teaser didn't reply; she merely shot him a dark look that might have killed a lesser feline. He knew that she didn't trust him, but he didn't have time to soothe her fears. He quickly covered the entrance to the chest and ran back to the TSE1 car, where most of the Jellicles had already gathered. He knew he was entering a dangerous game, but for some reason, he didn't care—his conscience couldn't allow anymore blood on his paws.

* * *

><p>Mungojerrie had taken to pacing around the loft incessantly. Everything that he had been taught told him to leave Rumpleteaser to whatever fate befell her—he couldn't risk more lives for one who might not have even survived the fire. However, his heart screamed, <em>Save her!<em>

He knew she was still alive. He knew it. If she had died, he would have felt it—he would have literally felt the light go out in his soul.

_She's not dead, she's not dead, she's not dead. She can't be dead—she can't!_

If things were reversed, Rumpleteaser would not come back for him—she'd know that he didn't expect her to, that he'd understand. Mungo suddenly smiled as he imagined storming the yard to rescue the tabby queen and seeing the look of indignation on her face, _Y'aren't supposed to come back, Mungo! Oi coulda' handled it jus' foine on my own!_

She probably would smack him for being so foolish and risking so much to save her. She'd pretend to be angry, say that he underestimated her escape abilities. But at the end of the day, she'd curl up next to him and whisper how sweet he was for doing so. She'd never be able to stay mad at him, just as he was never able to stay mad at her. It was how they'd always been—easy to forgive, to forget the mistakes, to overlook the petty things between them.

Maybe he'd overlooked too much, he suddenly thought. Maybe there were times when he should have said the things that he always took for granted—like the fact that he loved her more than he'd ever loved any other cat in his life. Like the fact that he worried every time she had a nightmare, that he listened to every word she said in her sleep, trying to piece together the little parts of herself that she didn't share with him.

Oh, Saints in Heavisde, what if she never came back? There was so much of her that he still didn't know, didn't understand—and so much of himself that he needed to share with her. The tiger-striped tom felt a wave of panic rising in his chest at the thought. So many things left unsaid, left unasked, left unknown—he always thought there'd be more time for that later on! But what if there wasn't? What if there wasn't any time left at all?

Mungojerrie shook himself from such dark thoughts. No, he couldn't allow himself to even contemplate such a future. Teaser was alive. She had to be.

But the small, dark voice still asked, _But what if she isn't?_

* * *

><p>Electra rose from her place beside Misto, gently tapping Etcetera's shoulder, "Come. You'll stay with me tonight."<p>

Cetty simply nodded and followed the dark queen, moving out of the way as Mungo continued his silent trek up and down the narrow hallway. Electra led her to a side room and opened the door. Cetty looked around the room, her eyes wide with wonderment. It wasn't particularly large, but spacious enough to be comfortable. A long window looked out at the pale moonlight. All this time, she had pictured the rag-tag rebels living in utter poverty, but their loft was better than most dens in the Junkyard!

"So this is where you have been the whole time?"

"Not exactly," Pouncival replied in a humorless tone. Cetty whirled around to see him leaning on the doorfacing, with Misto at his side. "Your fearless leader smoked us out of the first place."

"Pounce," Electra warned quietly, moving away from the door and lightly jumping onto the top bunk. She offered a small smile to Etcetera, but she did not apologize for Pouncival's comment. After all, it was true, and the sooner Cetty learned the truth about Munkustrap, the better.

"I'm not surprised," Cetty admitted. "You're lucky that's all he did."

"What do you mean?" Pouncival asked.

"I know what happened to the others," Cetty said quietly, her voice weighted with sorrow and conviction. "The cats who went away and never came back."

There was a moment of breathless horror as the true meaning of her words sank in.

"You mean Munkustrap…" Misto couldn't finish the thought.

"He's hired Macavity's henchrats," Cetty blinked back tears. "They...they do whatever he says. I was there the night that Skimbleshanks and Jennyanydots tried to leave…they…he told the rats to…."

Etcetera was shaking so hard that she couldn't continue. Her entire body wracked with sobs as the rest of the cats simply stared at her, unsure of what to do or say.

"Jenny," Electra whispered. The Gumbie Cat had raised her, taken her off the streets and made her into a true Jellicle. Most of the time she despised Jenny's authority, but underneath the sternness was always a motherly concern. She suddenly thought of all the times that she'd taken Jenny's compassion for granted, and a lump formed in her throat.

Misto moved forward, gently placing a paw on Etcetera's shoulder and murmuring words of comfort into her ear. Pouncival sat there uncomfortably; he glanced up at Electra who was staring at her paws with such intensity that it was obvious she was trying not to burst into tears.

It was too much loss for one day. Pouncival simply turned around and walked away—past Mungo, who paced, oblivious to the rest of the world; past the door that shielded Tugger's grief from the others; past the room where he last smiled at Bombalurina; past the stairs that he mounted a hundred times, laughing and joking with Cass and the others. It had all seemed so golden then, so rosy, so full of fervor and promise. Now it was a haunted house, a dark and mournful reminder of what happiness once was. He didn't want those memories anymore. He didn't want anything.

* * *

><p>Munkustrap didn't ask about Jemima. Demeter didn't offer any information. They simply returned to the yard side by side, neither daring to look at the other. Alonzo organized cats into groups and found temporary shelter for those whose dens had been lost in the flames. Luckily, Munkustrap and Demeter's home had been spared.<p>

The three kits curled around their mother, all painfully aware of the uneasiness between their parents but too afraid to speak of it.

Jellylorum and Asparagus stayed in the den as well. No one spoke as they all settled in for the night. Deteuronomus' green eyes wandered around the den, taking in the weather-beaten faces of his family. Even though he was still very young, he understood that something very bad had happened that day—something bigger than the fire, something more destructive. He gave a small shiver of fear and snuggled closer to his mother, who instinctively placed her paw over him. He prayed to his grandfather in Heaviside that things wouldn't always be this way. He also prayed for Grandfather Deuteronomy to watch over Jemima. He didn't know where she was, but he knew she wasn't coming back.

* * *

><p>Jemima huddled close to the tree trunk, straining to hear above the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. There it was again—the shrill shriek of a nighthawk. She quickly clapped a paw over her mouth to keep from screaming in fear. These woods were unfamiliar, and every little sound signaled some unseen danger.<p>

_Be strong_. She couldn't lose her wits now—not when she needed them the most. She was a Jellicle after all, and Jellicle cats were always practical cats. They were smart cats, survivors. They didn't devolve into complete hysteria simply because they were alone in the woods.

Alone.

What a scary, scary word. Jemima had never been truly alone at any point during her life—she was always surrounded by parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, other Jellicles. It was strange to think that she'd never done anything in her life on her own.

_Well that's certainly changing, isn't it?_ She gave a wry smile at the thought, and was suddenly proud of herself for being able to find humor in such a situation. She was reminded of her grandmother—Jellylorum would sometimes wrap her tail around Jemima with a soft smile, _You and I are cut from the same cloth, Jemi dear. We're scrappers—no matter what life throws at us, we catch it and throw it right back. We know how to survive and we can hold out with the best of 'em. _

She was a scrapper. That was her heritage, and perhaps her legacy. She came from a line of tough felines; she had what it took to surmount any obstacle. With that final thought and a quick nod of decision, she darted across the forest floor, quickly moving from tree to tree and listening for any ominous noise. But now she did not listen with fear, but determination. Let the creatures of the night come for her. She wasn't afraid.

* * *

><p>Instead of taking the empty bunk, Cetty curled up beside Electra, just as when they were small kits. Lecs didn't say anything; she merely wrapped her tail around her kittenhood friend and hummed a tune that Jenny had taught her many years ago. Even though the memory of Jenny pained them both, it somehow brought comfort as well.<p>

Misto curled up next to them as well. The three quietly drifted off to sleep.

Mungojerrie had finally stopped his pacing long enough to glance into the room. As he saw the three cats—their faces still so innocent and kitten-like—he felt a stir of emotion. These kits had been through their first battle, they'd survived hell and would have gladly given their lives that day. Their cause was something greater than all of them; greater than they'd ever truly know, perhaps.

He heard Teaser's gentle voice in his ear, _Ya can't ask 'em to do this, Mungo. Ya can't sacrifoice 'em loike that_.

With a heavy sigh, he knew what he must do. There would be no rescue mission for Rumpleteaser—even though the others would gladly rush in to save her, the risk was too great. Teaser was a resourceful cat; she could take care of herself.

_Please come back to me_, he silently implored the heavens, hoping that somehow his partner in crime heard him. _Please_.

* * *

><p><em>Please let her still be there<em>, Alonzo thought as he raced across the yard. It had taken him longer than expected to settle everyone in for the night and find the supplies he needed to mend her leg.

Once he reached the abandoned chest of drawers, he stopped and took a deep breath. He peered cautiously into the den. No one was there.

"Rumpleteaser?" An icy prick of fear stabbed his stomach. Had she been discovered?

A pair of large ears swiveled above the pillow in the corner, followed by a pair of green eyes, "Lonzo?"

"Yes—it's just me," he reassured her, slowly entering and pulling the pillow off of her tiny form.

"Oi though Oi 'eard others comin'," she explained, wincing as she pulled herself into a sitting position. Alonzo gently helped her.

"I'm gonna patch you up," he stated, holding up a roll of gauze and gingerly moving her injured leg. He heard her give a sharp intake of breath, but she didn't say anything.

"This is pretty deep," he frowned as he inspected the gash.

"Dohn' Oi know it," Teaser retorted. She gave another wince as he touched the edge of the cut. "Watch the paws, Mista'."

"We might need something more than a bandage."

"Wotcha' gonna do, carry me ova' to Jellylorum and 'ave her stitch me up? Oi'm shore Munku will jus' love that."

Alonzo gave her a sharp look, "You can be a bit snarky when you're in pain, you know that?"

"Oi can be a bit snarky whenever Oi want to," the tabby queen replied prissily. Alonzo couldn't help but laugh. He simply shook his head and began unrolling the gauze. A comfortable silence followed as Teaser watched him.

"Whoy are you helpin' me?" She asked after awhile, her voice tinged with suspicion.

"It's my duty," Alonzo replied as he continued to gently wrap the gauze around her leg. "I am the Jellicle Protector—I took an oath to keep all Jellicles from danger."

"Oi ain't a Jellicle anymore."

"You will always be a Jellicle," Alonzo said quietly.

Teaser gave a contemptuous snort, but she didn't respond.

"You finished yet?" She peered down at her injured leg.

"Hold still," he commanded.

"Gory," Teaser fell back on the pillow with a dramatic sigh. "You take longer than an old queen."

Alonzo gave a wry smile, "And you are too impatient."

"Oi am not impatient," Teaser retorted lightly. "Oi jus' dohn' like waitin'."

The black and white tom laughed at her comment. Teaser smiled as well.

"Thank you," she spoke quietly.

Alonzo looked up, his eyes meeting hers for the first time. He gave a soft smile, "You're welcome."

Teaser suddenly shifted back to her previous attitude, "Now scram before someone notices ya' gone missin' and foinds me instead."

The black and white tom fought back another smile—Teaser was pretty good at this tough cookie act. He gave her one last look before he left, "I'll be back in a little while with some food."

She nodded and curled up in the corner once more. He watched as she pulled the pillow over herself and immediately disappeared from sight. He wondered where she'd learned to be so cautious, but wisely decided not voice such thoughts aloud.

* * *

><p>The grey light of dawn was slowly seeping into the woods—Jemima could see the edge of the forest and felt a wave of relief wash over her. The owls and nighthawks were already nested for the day; it was finally safe to stop and rest.<p>

She quickly found a small bush to hide under, curling up into a small ball as she gave a weary hum. Now that she was over her initial fear, it was all turning into a grand adventure. She'd stopped thinking of Bombalurina, or her mother, or her brother and sisters—she had to push that aside in order to continue.

Slowly her body slipped into slumber, her thoughts became hazy and warm. She heard a slight noise, but she was too far gone to fully register it.

Suddenly, a rough shake jolted her away—she sprang to her feet, looking around wildly, heart pounding like mad.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," a young white tom with grey stripes gently touched her shoulder. "Chill, kitty, chill."

She took a deep breath and looked around. There was another tom, solid black, sitting in the tree above. At the trunk stood two queens—one calico, one sandy-brown with exotic features.

"What do you want from me?" Jemima asked, trying to sound more intimidating than she felt.

"You're on our territory," the striped tom replied. "We have the right to question whoever trespasses."

"I will not answer any questions until I know to whom I am speaking." Jemima retorted. She saw a look of surprise pass among the strangers—apparently they were not used to be interrogated by trespassers.

The sandy-brown queen spoke first, motioning to herself and the calico, "I'm Katya. This is Adelydina, but you can call her Dina."

She gave a quick jerk of her chin to indicate the black tom above her, "That's Bill Bailey."

The other tom extended his paw, "And I'm Carbucketty. Pleasure to meet you."

Jemima shook his paw with a slight smile.

"And who are you?" asked Bill Bailey haughtily.

Jemima stood a little straighter, her chin jutted forward defiantly, "I am Jemima the Jellicle."

"A Jellicle, eh?" The black cat slipped forward with a Cheshire grin. "Why are you outside the borders of your precious Yard? Don't you know how dangerous it is for a Jellicle to travel alone through the wood?"

"I ran away," Jemima admitted.

"You ran away? Why?" Dina spoke for the first time. Jemima didn't notice at first, but from the low pitch of her voice, Dina was obviously older than the others—perhaps her mother's age.

"I'd rather not talk about it," Jemima turned away.

Katya nodded sagely, "That bad, huh? I had heard that things went downhill for the Jellicle since the death of Old Deuteronomy. Tis a shame. He was a good cat."

"He was my grandfather," Jemima said quietly.

Carbucketty sat up suddenly, "Whose daughter are you? Munkustrap or the Rum Tum Tugger?"

"Munkustrap. Tugger doesn't have kits."

"You're looking at one," grinned Carbucketty. He laughed at Jemima's shocked expression. "Don't act so surprised! The Rum Tum Tugger is a cat about town—he was bound to knock up a few queens here and there."

"If you are Munkustrap's daughter," Dina spoke quietly. "Then you are the daughter of Demeter as well."

"I am," Jemima answered. "How do you know all this?"

"Demi used to play with us—back when we were all kits," Katya supplied helpfully. "A sweet cat. Very kind."

"Very beautiful," Dina added. She took a moment to study Jemima, "You favor her greatly."

"Thank you," Jemima blushed.

"So, where ya headed?" Carbucketty asked.

"I don't know."

"How about shipping out with us?"

"Shipping out?"

The white and grey tom shrugged, "Well, we are pirates. We wouldn't be very good pirates if we didn't take to the sea every once and awhile."

"Pirates?" Jemima blanched at the word. The other cats burst into laughter.

"We're not Growltiger, mind you," Katya assured her.

Bill Bailey landed lightly on his feet next to her, "We are suppliers of rare imported and domestic goods."

"You work on the black market," Jemima surmised. This earned her another grin from the others.

"The little Jellicle's a quick study," Bill Bailey commented wryly. He looked at the calico queen, "Waddya say, Dina?"

Dina smiled and turned her amber eyes back to Jemima, "You are welcome to join us, Jemima the Jellicle. We'll have to discuss it with our captain, but I'm sure he'll say yes. We can always use the extra hand."

Jemima looked at the others, "I'm not sure."

"C'mon," Carbucketty cajoled. "It'll be fun—a big adventure! Besides, what else are you doing?"

Jemima took a moment to contemplate his words—if she were at sea, it would be even harder for her father to find her, and if she happened to find a city that suited her, she could simply jump ship and settle.

She grinned, "I'm in."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_***Author's Note: I can't believe it's been so long since I've updated! Hopefully my Chickadees are still all out there somewhere...***_

Electra awoke, giving a small grimace at the pain in her shoulder—she'd slept at an odd angle, keeping her arm around Cetty, who was still sleeping peacefully. The dark queen rubbed her sore shoulder and looked around the room, which was still pale and hazy in the early morning light.

Mistoffelees shifted, peering inquisitively at her over Cetty's sleeping form. He didn't speak. He simply offered a tired smile. Lecs tried to return the smile, but didn't have the strength. She jumped to the floor, landing lightly on her paws, and stretched again before padding down the hall. She hadn't seen Pouncival since last night; he was nowhere in the loft. Tugger's door was still closed; no sound came from behind the ominous dark wood. Mungojerrie was asleep in his room, a sorrowful look on his face.

Electra went to the large window in the main room and looked down at the streets below—she saw the opening of the alleyway, where their first skirmish with the rats had occurred, just two days earlier. Had it really only been two days? Two days since Bombie and Cass were with them, since they had all laughed and played a round of cards, since the loft had been filled with warmth and happiness. Two days ago she hadn't known how important those moments would be, that it would be the last time the only true family she'd ever known would be whole. Now the loft was as dark and hollow as the hole in her heart.

She heard Misto walk up behind her, heard his light sigh. He didn't speak. He waited.

With a deep sigh of her own, she asked quietly, "Is this how it's going to feel for the rest of our lives?"

Misto didn't answer. He wanted to tell her that it wouldn't always be this way—cold mornings of empty rooms, closed doors, and broken hearts, sleepless nights of tears, dead feelings, and tired eyes—but a part of him wasn't sure that things would ever get better. Bombalurina was his mother; Cassandra was his friend—he couldn't imagine a world without them, and he couldn't imagine the sting of their loss ever lessening.

He bit back a sob, but Electra still heard it—she turned around, her eyes welled with unshed tears as she quickly wrapped him in her arms. She knew how much deeper the pain must be for him; she felt sorry for wallowing in self-pity when he was the one who needed comforting.

She gently laid his head on her shoulder, swaying softly back and forth, as a mother would rock her kit. Her own tears fell freely as she held his trembling body. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest as a single thought shot through her mind, bringing white-hot fear with it: _Where do we go from here?_

* * *

><p>Pouncival set down the glass with a heavy thud, his paw still firmly gripping the handle. Wordlessly, the barkeep poured another round. The young tom had wandered the streets all night, not caring where he was going. He ended up in a dismal little pub, one where cats didn't try to make small talk or ask for your life's story. They simply sat and drank, staring numbly at their pints, giving true meaning to the phrase "minding your p's and q's."<p>

"Sun's up, buddy." The barkeep pointed out, polishing another glass before stowing it away. "That'll be your last one before closin'."

Pouncival nodded and raised his glass in thanks, throwing his head back and quickly draining the contents. His head had already begun to pound, but at least it took away from the searing pain in his chest. He could breathe easier, without that terrifying clarity of thought which reminded him that the one true love of his life was gone. And Cass. Saints in Heaviside, Cass was a good cat, too.

He pushed the glass away and stood up on uneasy paws, "How much do I owe you?"

The barkeep raised his paws,"Not a red cent, lad. I don't know your story, but I can tell a tragedy when I see one. Hope it helped."

Pounce gave a small nod, suddenly sobered, "Thank you, sir. I wish I could say that it had."

The barkeep simply gave a sympathetic smile. Pouncival turned and left, slowly weaving his way down the street. He'd find a nice sunny doorstep to sleep on for a few hours, before the hangover hit. Then of course, he'd have to start all over again. Not the best plan, but it was all he had.

* * *

><p>Rumpleteaser gave a slight wince as she opened her eyes. Her leg felt like lead and a hot pain flashed through her side. She looked around slowly, trying to remember where she was and how she got there. She saw Alonzo's smiling face and it call came rushing back to her.<p>

"Good morning," he said softly.

"Good morning," she returned with a weak smile.

"Came to check on the leg," he motioned to her injured limb. She nodded, sitting up a little and rubbing the last remnants of sleep from her eyes. She quietly watched Alonzo's white-tipped paws as he carefully changed her dressing. He really was quite a good nursemaid, she thought with a wry smile.

He noticed her crooked grin, "What's so funny, tabby cat?"

"Nuffin."

"Right." He took a moment to stare at her, as if trying to read her thoughts. Realizing it was futile, he simply returned to his task. With a dramatic flourish, he announced, "All done."

She leaned forward to closer inspect the gauze, although she knew he'd done a good job. Then she gingerly tried to stand.

"Not yet," the black and white tom gently pushed her back into a sitting position.

She gave an irritated huff, "It wohn' heal if Oi dohn' start working on it."

"You'll just make it bleed more."

"Oi can't jus' sit around loike a sitting duck!" She replied in an exasperated tone.

"Well, that's generally what sitting ducks do—they sit." Alonzo pointed out dryly. The tiger striped queen gave him a dark look. Then with a dramatic sigh, she leaned back on the pillow, her green eyes filled with melodramatic despair. He couldn't help but smile at her antics—she was absolutely adorable, even when she was being unbearable. Why hadn't he noticed that before?

"Wot? You jus' gonna sit here all day, babysittin' me?" Her green eyes glared at him. Alonzo fought back another smile, held his paws up in defeat, and quietly retreated from her hiding place.

Rumpleteaser's ears pricked as she strained to hear him walking away. After several minutes of silence, she was convinced that he was gone.

_Now's a good time as any_, she thought, slowly rising to her feet, being careful not to put too much pressure on her injured leg. Getting out of the Junkyard would be absolute hell, but she could recover once she had reached the loft—then she would be with Mungo and the others, safe and sound, without any fear or stress to impede the recovery process. The sooner she left Jellicle Territory, the better.

She cautiously peered out the opening, scanning the perimeter for enemy forces. Seeing none, she quietly slipped out of the den and made her way to a nearby pile of old bike tires. It was a short distance, but the journey took considerable time and her leg had already begun to throb like crazy. _This is going to be harder than I thought._

She looked down at her bandage—Alonzo was right. Bright red had already begun to seep through the layers of gauze; the adrenaline ringing in her ears and pushing blood faster through her body certainly didn't help either. _I'm not turning around_.

With another deep breath the steel herself, she started for another pile—she planned to leap-frog her way through the yard, hiding behind various items until she reached safety. The second movement wasn't as hard. Still, she hadn't made much progress. She pushed the negative thoughts from her mind and planned her next move.

She settled upon a large drum set, which had been abandoned due to a huge hole through the bass drum. As she moved towards it, someone swooped her up, quickly smacking a paw over her mouth and smothering the involuntary shriek that escaped.

"I told you to stay put," Alonzo's voice growled in her ear. She kicked out angrily with her uninjured back leg, but he easily dodged the blow, simply hoisting her further up on his shoulder, just as he had done the first time he rescued her.

"Don't you dare say a word," he commanded, maneuvering through the yard and back to the den. Teaser understood the threat in his voice and wisely kept her mouth shut. Hot tears of anger filled her green eyes—all that effort, only to be thwarted by Mister Goody-Two-Shoes with a Savior Complex!

Alonzo brusquely dropped her back onto the pillow, a little harder than necessary. He didn't speak—he was too angry. Here she was, half-lame, hobbling around in broad daylight! Was this cat soft in the head or did she seriously have a death wish?!

He turned around and sat at the entrance of the den. No way was he leaving her alone after that stunt. Teaser's tears renewed themselves as she realized her window for escape had been closed. She angrily turned to face the wall, wrapping a protective tail around herself. He didn't understand the danger that she was in—why couldn't he see how desperately she needed to leave this place?

* * *

><p>Tumblebrutus gingerly lifted the charred remains of a bicycle tire, trying to avoid the still-warm pieces of melted rubber. He'd spent most of the previous night simply sifting through what was left of the Yard, finding objects that were still salvageable to use as building materials.<p>

He rubbed his eyes, which felt like sandpaper from the smoke and soot, and gave a heavy sigh. He was tired, his paws were tender from picking up still-smoldering pieces of wood and metal, and he could feel the burning in his lungs each time he took a breath. But all of this was better than trying to sleep, better than allowing his mind the time to wander and think of all the missing, of all the damage and fear and loss. He'd keep working until he nearly fell over with fatigue, until he was too tired to think or wonder or worry or dream.

"This morning's search party brought back more survivors," Plato announced, glancing down at the scrap of paper in his paws—a list of the missing. He shook his head, "There's still so many names left."

Tumblebrutus simply nodded. He didn't ask who returned; part of him didn't want to know. He was more concerned with who hadn't returned—a certain someone whom he knew would never return.

_Electra_. He'd seen her at the start of the battle, as she leaped over the fence, eyes flashing and pulse pounding. And for one awful heartbeat of a moment, he realized that she might die. He realized that the rebels had truly reached the point of no return—even if they weren't killed, they'd be forever banished from Jellicle society. They'd attacked the Jellicle Leader, they'd been responsible for the spilling of another Jellicle's blood, and for those crimes, they could never be allowed back into the Tribe. They'd broken their oaths, their only end would be one of shame and treason.

And yet none of these things stopped his feelings for her. He could barely contain his emotions when he regained consciousness and realized that she'd escaped, again. At least that's what he hoped had happened. If he was honest with himself, he would admit that was the reason he was still sifting through piles of metal and ash—he wanted to make sure there were no bodies buried beneath. So far, his search had proved fruitless, thankfully.

"You're awfully quiet," Plato observed.

"Our home is destroyed, cats are still missing, some are injured," Tumble tossed aside another piece of tin that was charred beyond use. "Do you want me to chatter away with joy and delight?"

Plato took the hint; he simply ducked his head, folded up the piece of paper and walked away. Tumblebrutus retreated back to his own thoughts. He usually wasn't one to send prayers to Heaviside, but now one prayer echoed through his head, keeping time with every movement he made, _Please don't let me find her here. Please let her be safe. Please, please, please_.

* * *

><p>Cetty finally awoke, rubbing her eyes in the bright morning light. With a yawn and a stretch, she went off in search of the others. She found Misto and Lecs sitting pensively in front of the large window—their ravaged faces testified that they'd spent most of the morning crying. She quietly sat next to Electra, taking the dark queen's paw in hers.<p>

She took a moment to study her kittenhood friend—she'd been apart from Electra for several months now; it was interesting to see the changes in her. She had certainly grown up—her face was leaner, she was a good two inches taller—but there was something else, something intangibly different. The way Lecs sat, with her head held in a dignified manner, the pride in which she wrapped her tail around herself—it was as if she was a completely different cat. And yet, she looked just the same. It was as if nothing and everything had changed, all at once.

Electra must have felt her scrutiny, because she turned to Etcetera with a quizzical expression, "What?"

"Nothing," Cetty smiled softly, lightly brushing down a wayward streak of fur on the dark queen's forehead. "It's just…I don't know. You both seem so different."

Misto didn't reply. In fact, he'd never even acknowledged Cetty's presence—he simply continued to stare out the window with a glazed expression. Lecs' voice was hoarse as she flatly stated, "We've been through a lot."

The lighter queen ducked her head—she knew she'd said something wrong, but she wasn't sure what it was. It seemed that every time she opened her mouth around these cats, it always ended up making them even more upset.

She felt both of Electra's forepaws taking hers. She looked up to see the dark queen's face, "Look, Cetty, we don't mean to be standoffish—we are just dealing with a lot right now. It's nothing to do with you."

Etcetera knew that her friend was trying to make her feel better, but it certainly had the adverse effect. _It's nothing to do with you_. In other words_, you're an outsider, you'll never truly understand what we're going through_.

Forcing a smile, Cetty gave a quick nod and walked away. Sure, she hadn't been with them through the long months of exile, but she'd been in her own form of exile, shut off from everyone else within the Tribe, harboring the dreadful secret of what really happened to the cats who didn't return. She'd wanted nothing more than to be somewhere she could feel safe and wanted. She thought that she would find that with the rebels. Obviously she was mistaken.

* * *

><p>Teathrice gave a heavy sigh, rubbing her weary neck as she continued to survey the Yard. Munkustrap had placed her on watch duty so that the able-bodied toms could concentrate on gathering materials for the reconstruction.<p>

She heard a loud, booming laugh, and she turned towards the sound, although she already knew its origin. She'd know the cadence of Roary Huffersnuff's voice anywhere. He was across the yard, joking with Notekins O'Malley as they sifted through the rubble. Bast, what a sight. She remembered when she was first confirmed as an Elder, how imposing they had both seemed—Notekins with his jet-black coat and piercing yellow eyes; Roary with his battleworn face and unsmiling mouth. Later, the three had become better acquainted and she'd come to respect them. For a time, Roary had been her lover, but it was doomed to failure from the start—mainly because Roary and Teathrice both realized that they quite enjoyed being single. The tragedy of recent events had changed that for Teathrice. She didn't like the idea of being alone anymore.

Roary must have felt her eyes upon them, for he turned and flashed her a brilliant smile—the same one that had swept her away so many years ago. She smiled back; his happy nature was always infectious.

The black and red tom motioned to Notekins that he was taking a break and then bounded up to the grey queen.

"How goes the watch?" He asked, breathless from his jump.

"Fine, I suppose," Teathrice suppressed another smile. Despite the fact that Roary was one of the oldest surviving members of the tribe, he had the energy of a kit.

"What's that smile about?"

"You," she answered simply, turning her gaze back to the horizon.

"So you're thinking about me, eh?" A mischievous note crept into the tom's voice. Teathrice laughed.

"Not like that, I assure you," she replied.

"Why not?" Roary suddenly became serious. Teathrice turned to him, her grey face filled with uncertainty.

"Well...because," she offered weakly. She gave a slight shrug, "I mean...we...we aren't like that any more."

"Doesn't mean you can't think about me," Roary replied gently.

A smile returned to the grey queen's lips, "Is that what you want, Roary Huffersnuff? For some poor queen to be hung up over you, pining away at the loss of your sweet love?"

He laughed loudly at this, breaking any seriousness the moment might have held, "Bast, no, Tea. I might actually lose respect for you if that happened."

Teathrice laughed in agreement. There was the old Roary.

The black and red tom looked over his shoulder and motioned to Jellylorum, "I'm worried about Jells. Ever since the fire, she's been off a bit."

"We've all be off a bit," Teathrice's tone was grim. She gave a sigh.

"I'm glad you came back," he suddenly changed the subject.

"I didn't have much choice," she admitted. "You all came after me."

There was a moment as Roary considered her words. Slowly, as if he feared the answer, he asked, "Are you saying that if we hadn't found you in the woods, you wouldn't have come back to the Tribe?"

She shrugged again, turning her face away from him. "We didn't know if there would be a Tribe to come back to."

Roary nodded, although he knew there was more to her excuse. Teathrice took a deep breath and asked the question that had been on her mind since the battle, "When we were in the woods, I saw blood on Jemima's paws...Roary, whose blood was that?"

She turned back to him, her eyes pleading to know the answer, yet her heart wishing there was no such question to answer at all.

"I don't know," Roary admitted quietly. "There wasn't much of a fight—Mistoffelees pulled some kind of spell, knocked us all out for a few minutes. By the time we came to, the place was on a fire. I saw a few bodies, but I couldn't tell who they were. The smoke was so thick; I just grabbed Jells and we ran."

"It was a lot of blood," Teathrice said simply. She gave a heavy sigh and turned her eyes back to the charred borders of the fence.

Roary studied the grey queen's face. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. There were no words of comfort, no words to take away the blood and the smoke and the burned-out rubble. Instead, he merely placed his paw over hers. She didn't look at him, but he saw her eyes flutter slightly.

"C'mon, you lazy sack of bones!" Notekins bellowed from across the yard. "I'm not moving all this by myself!"

The black tom's voice shattered the stillness of the moment; Roary and Teathrice both smiled at his remark. Roary just shook his head in mock surrender, giving Teathrice one last wink as he leapt from the perch and dashed back to help his friend, hurling insults in rebuttal.

The grey queen laughed at the two toms, and found herself amazed at the fact that she was, in fact, laughing after so many hours of terror and sadness. Perhaps this was what the meaning behind the word "family"—the ones who shared your sadness, who saw your pain, and yet who still found a way to make you remember the spark of joy again.

* * *

><p>"Permission to bring a new shipmate aboard, sir!" Carbucketty bellowed from the pier. A grey tom with amber eyes stared down at Jemima.<p>

"State your name, cat," he commanded.

"Jemima the Jellicle," she replied. "Daughter of Demeter and Munkustrap."

"Family trees have no place aboard ships," he commented drolly. He took a moment to observe her. Then he gave a curt nod, "Permission granted. Welcome aboard _The Ratcatcher_."

With that, he turned and disappeared below decks. Bill Bailey gave Jemima a congratulatory slap on the back, "See, that wasn't too hard, was it?"

Jemima looked uneasily at the ship, "I don't really like water."

"What cat does?" Carbucketty replied with a snort. "The point is to stay _in_ the boat and _out_ of the water."

Jemima felt her mouth go dry. She had never been around so much water. The other cats scampered happily up the gangplank. Jemima stood at the dock, her large eyes focused on the dark, churning waters.

"Don't look at the water," Katya warned.

"What?" Jemima's eyes were fastened on the sea.

"Don't look!"

Dina moved quickly down the gangplank. She gently took Jemima's paw, "C'mon."

The calico queen slowly led Jemima onto the plank. The ship rocked beneath a wave, causing the plank to shift beneath their feet. Jemima gave a small gasp of fear.

"It's OK," Dina assured her. "Ships aren't steady. You'll get used to it."

Step by aching step, Jemima made it to the ship. Katya deftly removed the plank as Bill and Carbucketty began bringing up the anchor.

"We're ready!" Bill called triumphantly. The sails billowed open and the wind picked up, lurching the barge forward. The motion instantly filled Jemima with nausea.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," she clutched her head.

"Here," Katya handed her a strange leaf. "Chew this."

Jemima dutifully did as she was told. The taste of mint exploded in her mouth.

"Peppermint helps with the seasickness," Adelydina commented.

Jemima nodded.

"Do you need to go below deck?" Carbucketty asked, his voice tinged with concern. "You're looking a little green around the gills."

"I don't think the peppermint helped much," she admitted, sidestepping to move out of Bill Bailey's way as he pulled the foreboom around. Dina gave her a reassuring smile and a pat on the back and then moved to the shrouds, climbing the thick ropes to pull the main sail's boom in the appropriate direction. Jemima glanced up and saw the captain again—he was at the wheel, his brow furrowed in concentration as he skillfully moved the small ship through the perilous waters of the pier, snaking around the melee of ships, nets, posts, and docks.

Once they reached open waters, he barked, "Full sail!"

"Aye-aye!" Bill shouted back, unleashing the ropes and giving a small smile as the foresails billowed open. The ship began to glide quickly across the waters, slicing through the shimmering waves with ease. Jemima felt a rush of exhilaration, which combined with the sea-sickness and made her head spin and her stomach lurch.

She felt the gentle tug of Katya's paw, "Come, Jemima. You need to rest a while. Gain your sea legs."

This time Jemima did not argue; she followed the older queen below decks. Katya lead her to a small cabin and motioned to an available hammock, "This'll be yours—you'll share quarters with me and Dina. Nothing fancy, but it gets the job done. Don't have much time for sleepin' anyways."

"Thank you," Jemima replied, gingerly climbing the post that her hammock was attached to. Katya disappeared, only to return a few moments later with a damp rag.

"Here," she handed it to Jemima. "Put this on your forehead. And have another sprig of mint. It'll help. Just don't try to walk around for a while, OK?"

Jemima nodded and dutifully applied the compress. She closed her eyes and tried to fight back the waves of nausea that followed each movement of the ship. She contented herself with knowing that each lurch took her farther and farther away from Jellicle Territory—and her father.

* * *

><p>Munkustrap sat in the stillness, watching as his family slept—at least what remained of his family. Jemima was gone; Demeter hadn't said anything about it, which was a sure sign that she knew what had happened to their daughter. Munkustrap didn't ask. Part of him didn't want to know the answer. He felt a shiver of fear as he thought of his daughter wandering in the cold and cruel world—she was so young, so naïve and trusting, so easily taken advantage of. He prayed to his father in Heaviside that she would be alright.<p>

_His father_. Old Deuteronomy would weep to see how far they had fallen—their home destroyed, the Tribe in tatters. Munku stifled that familiar feeling of despair and failure that always appeared whenever he thought of his father—he always felt inadequate compared to Deuteronomy, forever overshadowed by his father's accomplishments. Still, he had tried his best to provide for the Jellicles, to serve and protect them to his fullest capabilities.

And yet—and yet!—it seemed his efforts failed at every turn. Whenever he tried to protect them, they rebelled. Whenever he instituted order, they cried for chaos. Whenever he defended them, they called him a murderer.

_Murderer_. No one had said it yet, but he saw the look in Demeter's eyes when he found them in the woods. The distrust—the moment when she reached out, as if to stop their kits from rushing to him—it was enough to break his heart. Demeter had always been his perfect mate, his guiding light, his fortress, the one who truly understood the good intentions in his heart. But now, it seemed that she was pulling away—in revulsion, in fear. If she didn't believe in him, then how could he go on?

Plato still believed in him. A few other Jellicles still looked at him with faith. But they did not matter—nothing else mattered if Demeter could no longer look at him without seeing a monster.

He felt a tear trickle down his cheek and was shocked at the fact that he'd been crying for quite some time without even realizing.

Aleyn coughed again, causing Demeter to wake up and gently rub the kit's back. He watched this scene silently, his eyes focused on his mate's pale face. Her eyes remained closed; once Aleyn settled down, she drifted back to sleep.

Munkustrap turned away, peering out the den entrance. He watched the moon above, quietly humming the Jellicle Song to himself. His father was still watching. He would not fail him now.

* * *

><p>The light patter of rain upon his face woke Pouncival; he gave a slight groan as he slowly rolled over, silently cursing the ill-effects of alcohol. His head felt like a small cat with a Moroccan drum set was beating inside his skull at full-force.<p>

He'd slept the day away—it was dark now, the mellow streetlamps were the only source of light, with the exception of an occasional passing car. He looked around and realized that he had no idea where he was—on the doorstep of some bast-forsaken old building. He leaned over the railing and promptly threw up, which actually made him feel better. Then he turned his face back to the rain and closed his eyes, silently praying for the pounding to stop.

He'd slept so deeply that he hadn't even dreamed. That was a victory in his book—even in his inebriated state, he had feared going to sleep, feared the chance of dreaming of Bombalurina.

_Bombie_. Just thinking of the name brought a pain to his chest as his lungs tightened. He quickly shook the thought from his head (an action that brought another round of nausea) and began to slowly make his way down the street.

A small voice told him that he should return back to the loft, that the others were probably worried about him, but he pushed it aside. He wasn't ready to go back—back to the place where she had been just days before, where her scent still lingered and her laughter still echoed in the rafters, back to the place where everyone's eyes were filled with tears and the somber toll of death weighed heavily in the air. The loft had become a tomb, filled with grief and memories—and the living didn't return to tombs. They sealed the entrances and walked away.

* * *

><p>The silence was becoming unbearable. Rumpleteaser hobbled over to Alonzo, sitting beside him.<p>

"You aren't supposed to be walking," he said, not even bothering to glance at her.

She didn't reply. She simply took a deep breath and said, "Oi'm sorry."

Alonzo turned to look at her, "What were you thinking? Broad daylight, Tease—anyone could have seen you."

"Oi…Oi jus' wanna go home," she admitted, looking down at her paws. "Ev'ry second Oi stay here is another chance for Munkustrap to foind me. Oi saw what 'appened to Bombie and Cass—do you think he'll show me any mercy?"

Alonzo sighed, shaking his head. He knew that she was right—she was in danger, and she needed to get out of here as soon as possible.

"You've been here all day," she spoke quietly. "Dohn' you think they'll get suspicious?"

He took a moment to look into her large green eyes, "Promise you won't try to run away again?"

"Promise," she gave a reassuring smile.

With a quick nod of approval, Alonzo leaned over to inspect her bandage, "OK, lemme change this dressing and then I'll be on my way."

The tiger-striped queen dutifully extended her injured leg. Alonzo grabbed the roll of gauze and began unwrapping the blood-soaked cloth. Teaser watched him with a soft smile.

"You're a good tom, ya know that?"

He looked up, slightly surprised by her statement. She continued, "You take me in, patch me up, hoide me from Munku—and for wot? Jus' cos you think it's the roight thing to do."

"It is the right thing to do," he replied gently.

"Not everyone woulda' chose to do it," Teaser pointed out. "Not when the proice is so hoigh. Fear makes cats forget about roight and wrong and choose wot's safe instead."

Now it was Alonzo's turn to give a soft smile, "For a knockabout clown, you're pretty insightful."

"Jill-of-all-trades, love," Teaser replied playfully. "Oi'm a Jill-of-all-trades."

Alonzo laughed at the quip, and then his face became serious once more, "I'll be back in the morning. Be careful."

Her face became solemn as well as she nodded in reply. The black and white tom disappeared into the night and Teaser felt a slight wave of loneliness. Alonzo's kindness had reminded her of the good side of Jellicle life—the warmth of belonging to the Tribe, something that she hadn't realized she missed until now. Of course, she'd found that same sense of belonging with the Rebels, but her current situation had deprived her of that as well.

Teaser's thoughts turned to her comrades. Aside from Bombalurina and Cassandra, she wasn't sure who else had made it through the battle, and she felt a pin prick of fear for the younger recruits. She tried to dissect her last memory—before the flames erupted, before the tower of metal had fallen across her path, pinning her leg in the debris—who was still there? She had heard Tugger's yells to Pounce and Mungo. Someone ran past, but she couldn't make out the face. Had she heard Electra's voice after the fire? What of Misto? Last time she had seen both of them, she was rushing past as they hovered over Bombalurina's body. Did Munkustrap finish them off?

These thoughts were too much for her; she clapped a paw over her mouth as a sob escaped. Trying to suppress the wail echoing in her chest, Teaser dragged her injured leg back over to the pillow in the corner. She buried her face into the pillow as she bit back the screeching fear inside. Not knowing whom to grieve for was worse than knowing the death toll.

The petite tabby curled into a ball, quietly rocking herself as she prayed to every saint in Heaviside to protect those who survived—and to find the wandering spirits of those who didn't. The uncertainty of the latter made her shiver with fear and nerves. The night seemed longer and darker than most, and Teaser spent every second wishing that it all was one horrible nightmare.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Electra sat in the corner of the main room, her tail curled around her small paws as she quietly observed the scene around her. It had been a week since the deaths of Cassandra and Bombalurina. The door to Tugger's room was shut, as usual. He hadn't been out for several days—one would think that he'd died in there, if not for the occasional muffled bouts of weeping that could be heard through the door. They hardly ever saw him—Misto and Cetty took turns bringing him food, but he didn't speak to them. Late at night, Electra had seen him creeping out of his bedroom window; she knew he was going to the rooftop to look at the stars and cry some more. He still wasn't ready to be comforted by others.

Etcetera was at the window, staring blankly into the grey sky. Mungojerrie was pacing the floor; Lecs watched his movements with worried eyes. Mistoffelees was sleeping in the next room; he did that a lot now. Pouncival hadn't been back to the loft since the night he walked out. No one knew what had become of Teaser. Lecs felt a shiver of fear.

_Something must be done._ They were too crippled by their grief; now they were wasting away like flowers in winter. Electra understood their pain—she felt the loss of Bomba and Cass just as acutely as the rest, but she also felt that they did not die in vain. Their deaths should have been the cataclysm to turn other Jellicles against Munkustrap, not the event that ended the rebellion altogether. Besides, if one believed the teachings of Heaviside and the Great Rumpus Cat, then Bombalurina and Cassandra would soon be reborn into new lives—what reason did they have to weep?

Electra rose to her feet and went into the next room. She shook Misto from sleep, "Get up. We've got work to do."

Misto blinked his bleary eyes, but did not refute the statement. He knew that she was right—the war was far from over.

"We've got to find Pounce," she stated. "We have to bring him home."

Misto nodded, stretching his limbs. He motioned for her to lead the way, and the two quickly climbed out the window and into the evening light.

Electra wasn't even sure where to begin searching for Pouncival, so they simply stopped at every place they could think of, systematically combing the streets.

"He could be anywhere," Mistoffelees pointed out. They'd been looking for hours and their nerves were beginning to wear thin. "For all we know, he could be in Timbuktu by now."

"We have to keep looking," Electra replied stolidly.

"This is hopeless."

"You got a better idea?"

"No."

"Then shut up," she growled, not even bothering to look back at him. Misto simply shook his head and followed her down yet another alleyway. The dark queen motioned to a small pub at the end of the alley. They entered and went straight to the bar.

"Excuse me," Electra motioned to the bartender, who came over to them.

"What'll it be?" He asked dryly.

"We're looking for someone, actually," she replied.

"Aren't we all?" He gave a wink. Misto smiled—he liked this cat's humor.

Electra would not be deterred, "A young tom. White, brown patches."

The barkeep jerked his head to the corner of the bar, "Sounds like that 'un over there."

The two Jellicles glanced over to see Pouncival, huddled in the corner with his drink.

"Pounce!" Electra rushed over. The young tom looked up, his eyes already blurry from the alcohol. There was a moment of shock as his mind registered the fact that Misto and Lecs were standing in front of him.

"How'd you get here?" He asked slowly.

"We came looking for you," Misto said simply.

"It's time to come home," Electra added with a soft smile.

"That place ain't my home anymore," Pounce retorted stubbornly. "I've got me a human who lives a few blocks up. Nice place—kitty door an' everything."

"Is this how you want to spend the rest of your life?" Misto motioned to the glass. "A pampered housecat with a drinking problem?"

"Leave me alone," Pounce growled.

"There isn't enough alcohol in the world to forget what happened," Lecs said gently.

"You didn't love her like I did!" Pounce slammed his fist on the countertop. "Don't stand there and preach to me—you have no idea what it's like!"

"She was my mother," Misto said evenly, his eyes drilling into Pounce's. "I loved her differently, but don't you _dare_ say that I didn't love her just as much."

Pounce looked down shamefully; Misto was right and he knew it. Electra moved forward, wrapping her arms around Pounce's shoulders, "We've all lost, Pouncival. Cass and Bombie—they were our family. But we're still here. And we're still a family. Don't lose us, too."

Pounce sat back, taking a moment to stare at both of them. He knew that Lecs was right—the others were just as hurt as he was. And yet these two cats had pulled themselves out of their grief to come looking for him—because they loved him, because they still needed him.

Bombalurina and Cassandra were dead. The other rebels weren't. And neither was the war.

He nodded slowly, standing to his feet. Then he turned back to the barkeeper, "Could I get a round for my friends, sir?"

The barkeep smiled and poured two more glasses, quickly refreshing Pounce's pint as well. Electra and Misto looked at him, slightly confused, however they took the glasses that he handed to them.

Pouncival lifted up his mug, suddenly solemn. "To Bombie and Cass. Good comrades, great felines. May we serve their memory well."

The other two Jellicles gave bittersweet smiles and raised their glasses, "To Bombie and Cass."

The glasses gave a solid _clink_! as the three toasted. Over the rim of her mug, Lecs' eyes traveled between the two toms—her brothers in arms. And for the first time since the battle, she felt the faintest glimmer of hope.

* * *

><p>Cetty watched the rain drops roll down the windowpane, her mind a million miles away. She'd spent the day in Electra's room, cloistered away from the other mourners. It was cold and dark and hunger gnawed at her stomach, but she couldn't bear the thought of food. The main door creaked as it opened; she heard footsteps down the hall.<p>

Pouncival's voice greeted her, "Hey, Cetty."

She turned around, surprised to see the young tom standing in the doorway, "I thought you were gone for good."

"Me, too." Pounce admitted quietly. He opened his arms and gave a meek smile, "Aren't you gonna welcome me home?"

A smile blossomed on the queen's face as she embraced him. Pounce held her tightly as he whispered, "Things are about to change, Cets. We've still got a war to fight—you know better than anyone how awful Munkustrap really is. We can't let that happen to the others."

Cetty nodded, still not pulling away from his embrace. She blinked back tears, "It's all so scary, Pounce."

"I know." He gave a deep sigh. "But we've got each other—that's all we got, I suppose. We can make it."

She stepped back, taking a moment to look in his eyes. Somehow, she believed him.

He offered one last lopsided grin, "I'm going to bed. See ya in the morning."

"Pounce?"

"Hmm?"

"You're drunk, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Cetty shook her head with a wry grin. No wonder he'd been so friendly and philosophical.

He apparently read her mind, "I still meant everything I said, Cets. Every word of it."

She leaned forward and lightly kissed his forehead, "I know. Sleep tight."

With that, the young tom wandered down the hall and into his own room, where he flopped upon the bed and immediately began to snore.

Electra entered the room, giving a light laugh, "Oh, Pounce. I can't imagine life without his crazy ways."

"Me either," Cetty smiled. Her expression then turned serious, "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," Electra admitted softly, leaping lightly onto the top bunk. It used to be Cassandra's bed; the dark queen could still smell the traces of her and found it comforting. She gently ran her paws over the ridges and valleys of the crumpled blanket. "Rumpleteaser was head of strategy, so to speak. And Bomba and Tugger were our leaders. We've lost them all."

"Tugger is still here," Cetty reminded her.

"We've lost him, Cetty," the dark queen spoke gently, trying not to upset her friend. "He may come back to us, but he may not. We need to prepare for the worst and hope for the best."

"You can't just give up on him like that," Cetty replied hotly. "You didn't give up on Pounce—why are you so quick to let Tugger go?"

"It's different," Electra answered.

"How so?" The striped and spotted queen demanded.

"It just is," Lecs whispered, wrapping her tail around herself and turning her face to the wall, signaling the end of the conversation.

Cetty gave an angry sigh and climbed into the bottom bunk. After a long silence, Lecs spoke again, "I don't want to give up on him, Cetty, really, I don't. But I don't know how to help him—he won't even speak to us. I know how to help Pounce. I can save him. But until Tugger starts letting us in, there's nothing we can do."

"He just needs time," Cetty whispered back. Electra could hear the tears in her voice. She repeated it again, like a prayer, "He just needs time."

Electra fought back her own tears as she stared up at the ceiling. She didn't want to upset Cetty any further, but the truth was that they didn't have time. Munkustrap was busy rebuilding the Junkyard, but soon he'd turn his attention back to the rebels. They had to be ready—and they had to be prepared to leave behind the ones who weren't.

* * *

><p>"We need to move you," Alonzo announced as he entered Teaser's hiding place. The petite tabby sat up, her large ears pin-pricked in curiosity.<p>

"Wot's wrong?"

"Nuffin," Alonzo replied. He suddenly smacked his forehead, "Jeez, now you've got me talking like you, too!"

"Oi dohn' talk loike that!" Teaser retorted angrily.

"Oh, yes, you do," he replied with a laugh. She reached out and smacked the side of his head with lighting speed.

"Dohn' make fun," she said, prissily smoothing the fur on her chest.

Alonzo playfully cuffed her ear, "I'll make fun all I want."

She batted back. Soon they were engaged in all out combat, as cats are wont to do when playing.

"Ow! No claws!" Alonzo yelped.

"Croiy baby," Teaser retorted, disengaging and stepping back. She laughed at his disheveled appearance and gently smoothed the fur on his forehead. "The others are gonna wonder wot you've been up to."

He laughed at the comment, but sobered at the touch of Teaser's paw. He took a moment to study her. She noticed his scrutiny and stepped back.

"Wot?"

"Nothing."

There was a moment of smiles and silence. Teaser suddenly cleared her throat and became very business-like, "So, Oi've got to move. Where to?"

"I was thinking the opposite end of the yard," Alonzo suggested.

"But there's nuffin there."

"Exactly. Well, not exactly—I mean, there's a few tin garbage cans, some old crates. It's the perfect hiding place."

"Oi thought this was the perfect hoiding place," Teaser said softly, her large green eyes scanning the cubby hole.

"Not anymore," Alonzo gave a heavy sigh. "Munkustrap's already talking about re-establishing patrols. The closer to the edge of the yard I can get you, the better—it'll be easier for you to leave, when you've healed enough to make the journey."

"When Oi leave," Teaser repeated, more to herself than Alonzo. Over the past week, she and Alonzo had become closer friends, and a part of her felt a pang at the thought of leaving him behind. Sometimes, whenever they were simply talking quietly or laughing over silly things, she would almost forget about wanting to leave at all.

_Almost_, she reminded herself. She still missed the other rebels, still missed the weight and the warmth of Mungojerrie as he lay next to her, his back perfectly fitted to her back as they slept. She missed the morning runs, slicing through the thick mists and bounding over the rooftops of London. She missed card games and laughter and warm pints at the local pub. She missed her sister—the thought caught her off-guard, but it was true. She missed her deep, quiet talks with Bombie as they sat on the roof beams, discussing everything from their mother to the next morning's plans. Tears filled her eyes as she realized that even if she made it back to the rebels, her days with Bombie were gone.

"Where'd you go?" Alonzo asked quietly.

Teaser's head snapped back to reality, "Wot?"

"Just now," he made a gentle motion with his paw. "You slipped away. Where did your mind go?"

"Oi was thinking of my sista," she replied, wiping away a tear.

"I didn't know you had a sister," he admitted. "What is she like?"

"Infuriating," Teaser quipped, giving a small laugh as she thought of the rocky start of their relationship. "But very koind. Most cats didn't see the softer soide, but she had one."

She gave another bittersweet smile, "Always remoinded me of a porcelain doll—a lovely, broken doll."

"You keep referring to her in the past tense," Alonzo pointed out. He took a breath before asking, "Where is she now?"

More tears. "She doied. About a week ago, maybe fifteen metres from this spot."

Alonzo suddenly understood, "Bombie? She was…?"

Rumpleteaser nodded. The black and white tom gave a low whistle of surprise and shook his head, "I never knew."

"Very few did," she admitted.

"But…but you hated each other," Alonzo was incredulous.

"That was before we left the Yard," she corrected him. "Afta' we ran off, we became closer."

She gave a humorless laugh, "Oi suppose Oi should be grateful for the damned war—Oi would never have gotten to know my sista if it hadn't happened."

Alonzo offered a weak smile, but he knew that there was nothing he could say that would lessen her pain. So he simply took her paw, "C'mon. It's time to get you one step closer to home."

She nodded and gave a small sniffle, gingerly stepping out on her injured leg. It was dark, and a bitterly cold wind blew through the Yard, but Teaser enjoyed the open air—her last escape attempt had elicited such violent disapproval that she had judiciously stayed inside the chest of drawers since then.

"Gory," she looked around, her large green eyes taking it all in. "You've been working hard."

The Yard had already begun to reform—humans had rebuilt the fence surrounding it; the cats had begun setting up their makeshift metropolis, stacking tires and milk crates once more.

Alonzo smiled softly, nodding in agreement, "We've got a long way to go, but it's certainly looking better."

Teaser's wound had improved greatly over the past few days, but it still wasn't fully healed—the journey across the yard took much longer; they occasionally had to stop to let Teaser regather her strength. Finally, they reached the corner, where the humans had stacked the charred remains of the original fence. Alonzo had set up a small milk crate with cushions beneath the fence posts, creating a nest.

"I'll try to bring some extra blankets," he said, gently helping her climb into the small opening between posts. "We lost so much in the fire, we're a bit short on bedding for everyone."

"Oi'll be foine," she assured him. His attentiveness was annoying and sweet at the same time.

"Promise you won't try to run off."

She gave a light chuckle, "Oi wohn'. Besoides, you're such a good nursemaid, whoy would Oi ever wanna leave?"

Alonzo's expression changed, and Teaser couldn't decipher it. He offered another smile, but this one didn't reach his eyes, "Sleep tight, Tease. I'll be back in the morning."

The black and white tom disappeared into the dark, windy night. The tiger-striped queen recoiled at the cold air that replaced his warm body. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, willing herself to slumber.

* * *

><p>"C'mon," Pouncival nudged Mungojerrie. "Time for the morning run."<p>

"Teasah's not 'ere anymore," Mungo morosely reminded him.

"No, but Munku's still out there," Pounce spoke quietly. "And we have to be ready."

Mungojerrie gave a heavy sigh. Pouncival was right. The tiger-striped tom rolled out of bed, rubbing his tired eyes. He looked up to see Electra, Cetty, and Misto anxiously watching him from the doorway.

"Wot are ya lookin at?" He motioned to the window. "Get ta' movin."

The four younger cats grinned as they scurried out onto the rooftop. Mungojerrie followed at a slower pace, taking one last look at Tugger's door, which still remained closed to the world.

* * *

><p>Misto didn't realize how many colorful expletives could be used in a sentence until Cetty started training. The kit had a mouth like a sailor, as the saying goes—and even then, there was a chance that she used words that even sailors hadn't heard.<p>

She swore again as her sore paws slipped on a drainpipe. Electra just shook her head and gave a silent laugh; her eyes twinkling as she sent a grin in Misto's direction. She kept his gaze, but her voice was for Cetty, "How's it going back there, soldier?"

They were greeted with more unrepeatable pleasantries. They could hear Pouncival, who was at the very back of the group, give a loud laugh at Cetty's remark.

"You'll survive, Cupcake," Pounce assured her.

Misto listened to their exchange for a few moments, smiling as the two cats insulted each other—the words were harsh, but the tone was playful. He looked back at Lecs, whose grin took on a hint of nostalgia.

"It feels good to smile again," she said softly. Misto nodded in agreement—after so much darkness, so much grief and terror, so much time spent playing this elaborate game of searching and hiding, the simple pleasure of a smile seemed like a luxury, a distant memory from a previous life.

"Pick up tha pace, felines!" Mungo's voice rang out—he was already two rooftops ahead of them. Despite his initial reluctance, he had thrown himself back into the exercises with a gusto that surprised the others.

Inevitably, Misto's thoughts turned to Rumpleteaser. No one knew whether she was alive or dead, and no one could remember when they had last seen her, or if they had seen her at all. Misto had thought everything about that day would remain crystal clear to him, like some timeless painting—every movement, every sound, every scent, every blow—but suddenly, it was some crazy, jumbled up mess that he couldn't sort out, no matter how hard he tried.

Lecs noticed his silence, saw his troubled expression, but she didn't speak. Mainly because she knew—she knew because she was thinking of Teaser, too. So instead, she doubled her pace, darting across the rooftops as if her tail were on fire. She eventually caught up to Mungojerrie, and from increased volume and frequency of Cetty's curses, she knew the others were closing the gap as well.

Mungo slowed his pace down to a walk, breathing deeply and allowing his muscles the oxygen that they now screamed for. Electra matched his pace, reigning in her own gait and turning back to face him with expectant eyes. Their usual circuit was much longer, and she knew Mungo wasn't slowing down simply because he needed to breathe.

"We need help," Mungo said quietly, so that only Electra could hear. She wanted to make a joke out of the statement, but she recognized the seriousness behind the words and instantly knew that Mungo already had some kind of plan brewing, so she simply listened. He opened his mouth to continue, but Pouncival bounded up, interrupting the conversation.

"I think we should head back before Etcetera kills herself," he announced cheerily. He was having fun at his friend's expense.

"Right-o," Mungo matched the young tom's light-hearted tone. He called over his shoulder, "About-face, let's head back to base!"

As the others scampered back towards the loft, Mungo held Lecs back, "We'll 'ave a chat about it all later. Oi jus' need you to know that from 'ere on out, you're comin' in as my second-in-command. Oi'm gonna need you to back my move."

Electra's heart stopped for a moment, "Y-y-you're second? You want me to be your second?"

"Whoy not?" Mungo asked, his tone just a little too casual. He was baiting her, but Lecs was too scared to notice.

"Well, what about Pounce? Or Misto? I mean, they're just as good—"

"They're 'ere because you held 'em together," Mungo said pointedly. And Lecs knew he was right. "Besoides, these are Teaser's orders, not moine."

"Teaser's orders?" Lecs' brain slowly tried to comprehend the strange turn of events.

"She knew you could 'andle whatever came your way," he said easily. "We've 'ad contingency plans in place since day one. If somethin' 'appened to Bombie or Tugger, Teaser would step up. After Tease comes me, after me comes you."

"Who comes after me?" Lecs asked quietly.

"Misto," Mungo replied. "No offense to Pounce, but you and Mista' Magic are a better team. You would be the two who could carry this thing on, if need be."

_This thing_. Their struggle, their terror, their loss, their training, their motivation, all boiled down to two words. Two insignificant words, and yet, they held the weight of the world.

Lecs hadn't really planned for the future—at least not a future that included the rebellion. Even when she joined the rebels, she hadn't thought of how long it would last, or how many they would lose, or which ones would die before her, or who would be left to carry on. Suddenly, she felt old—so very, very old and tired. She felt the weight of the war on her shoulders, in the creases beneath her eyes, and she realized that she may have to go the rest of her life feeling this way. There was no guarantee that they'd ever win. For some reason, she'd never truly contemplated not winning the battle. When Tugger, Bombie, Teaser, and Cass were still there, everything seemed wonderful and golden—they were so untouchable then, so full of life and hope and light.

_Now everything's changed. Everything's changed and there's no going back._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Aleyn developed a cough—most likely from the rampant smoke that still filled the Junkyard. Within a few days, she was confined to the den. Each time she coughed, it rattled her small frame. She became pale and listless.

"We need to take her to a human," Jellylorum pronounced. She'd done as much as she could to help her grandkit, but to no avail.

"We are not leaving the yard," Munkustrap replied stolidly. The older queen gave him a dark look.

"You let me take her when she had the fever," she pointed out rather flatly—inwardly, she was seething at his bullheadedness, but she knew better than to call him an idiot to his face.

"And she got better before you even reached the humans," he retorted. "She's a strong kit. She'll be fine in a day or two."

Jellylorum simply turned on her heel and walked away. As angry as she was at Munku, she still hoped he was right.

* * *

><p>Electra's stomach was tied into seventy different knots by the time they arrived back at the loft. Mungojerrie hadn't spoken another word the entire journey, although Pounce and Cetty bantered enough to keep anyone from noticing his silence.<p>

They climbed in through the window, and Cetty flopped onto the floor with a dramatic sigh, her eyes focused on the ceiling beams. Mungo gave a slight jerk of his head towards the door, and Electra nodded, following him out into the hallway, down until they reached the opening above the factory, where they sat and watched the human workers go about their day.

"What's the plan?" Lecs didn't waste time with pleasantries.

"We make an alliance with Macavity."

The name hung in the air like an axe, waiting to drop on their heads. Electra looked at Mungo, the shock and alarm evident in her dark face. Mungo kept his eyes trained on the humans below. Lecs knew that this was, in itself, some kind of test—of her loyalty, of her leadership skills, of her faith. She just wasn't sure what the right answer was. Did Mungo really plan to ask the Napoleon of Crime for help? Was he just testing her mettle, to see if she'd dare to stand up for him, to stand up for the interests of the group?

_The interests of the group_. As much as Electra hated to admit it, partnerning with Macavity was actually in their best interest. The rebels had been greatly outnumbered to begin with, and with the loss of four key players, they were little more than useless. If Munkustrap chose to retaliate now, they would be completely overwhelmed—and completely wiped out.

Mungojerrie counted the seconds in his head, but he never looked up. He could feel the shift in Electra's body as she mentally weighed the decision. Teaser was a faster thinker; she moved on her feet and would have already measured out the pros and cons, making a decision by the time Mungo had even finished his sentence. The tiger-striped tom reminded himself that Electra was not Rumpleteaser; she was just a young kit scared senseless and still learning to find her legs.

Finally, she spoke, her voice low and serious, "I agree."

Now he looked up, saw the fear behind her eyes, but also saw how she bravely tried to mask it.

"Personal feelings aside, Macavity really is our only option if we want to survive, much less win," she continued. She took a deep breath. "The others won't be happy about it, and quite frankly, neither am I, but I'll back your decision."

Mungo nodded. "Let's go tell 'em, then. The sooner the better."

With another deep breath, Electra rose to her feet and the two cats walked back to the loft. Mungo offered a small smile of reassurance and Lecs knew that whatever kind of test this had been, she had passed. She opened the door and gave him one last glance before entering. Mungo smiled again. Teaser had made a good choice.

* * *

><p>Alonzo gave one last furtive look around the yard before abandoning his post. He was supposed to be on watch, but this was the only time he could visit Teaser without someone noticing. He looked across the yard, where Teathrice, the other watch cat on duty, was perched precariously atop an abandoned swing frame. He gestured that he was taking a quick break, to which she nodded.<p>

The black and white tom quietly circuited the yard, taking a meandering path back to Teaser's hideout. Once he was certain that Teathrice couldn't see him, he grabbed the coffee tin that he'd hidden near a pile of old cardboard boxes earlier that day and rolled it to the pile of charred-out fence posts.

"Teaser," he whispered, and he heard stirring within. He saw two bright eyes flash in the darkness and he quickly entered. The tabby queen was sitting up, her large ears pricked in alert.

"I've found a way to get your out of here without being seen," he announced. Teaser didn't respond; she simply gave him a wary glance. Since Munkustrap had doubled the night watch, it was nearly impossible to move around without being seen by someone. Alonzo disappeared outside and then quickly reappeared, rolling the large coffee tin.

"It'll be a little snug, once I put the lid on, but you'll fit."

"Wot?"

"C'mon," he tilted the tin back into its upright position. "Climb in. I'll roll you to the edge of the yard and let you out once we're safe."

"You must be daft," Teaser's eyes were the size of saucers.

"I'll admit, it's not the best plan," he shrugged. "But it's all we've got."

She eyed the can as if it contained hell itself. With a deep breath, she slowly climbed in, curling up into a small ball, making her body seem half its size.

"There," Alonzo gave a small smile of satisfaction. "Perfect fit."

"Oi can't stay in here," a note of panic crept into Rumpleteaser's voice.

"You have to," Alonzo said simply.

"Oi can't—"

"It's just for a few minutes," he promised, setting the plastic lid into place.

Rumpleteaser immediately started to screech hysterically and the tin rocked violently, "Dohn' leave me 'ere! Please! Please, Oi can't stay in 'ere—Oi'll doie!"

Alonzo quickly reopened the container. He stared at the petite queen in shock. The change that had overcome her was remarkable—her eyes were filled with terror, her face was already streaked with panicked tears, her whole body heaved and shook uncontrollably.

"Are you alright?" He gently lifted her out of the container, still amazed by her sudden outburst.

"Oi told you—Oi can't stay in 'ere," she replied shakily, wiping away her tears.

"I'm sorry," Alonzo didn't know what else to say.

"It's alroight," she offered a small smile. "It's jus….we'll hafta foind some other way to get me out."

Alonzo nodded, still unsure of what just happened. Teaser moved to the far corner of the room, her paws shaking with tremors. He sat beside her in silence. But he couldn't simply sit there forever and not know what was going on, so finally, he gently asked, "Wanna talk about it?"

Teaser stared down at her paws with a heavy sigh, "Oi…Oi can't be in the dark alone. Not in a space so small and so dark."

She gave a humorless laugh, "It's stupid, roight? A cat who's afraid of the dark."

Alonzo didn't reply. He knew that something very terrible would have to happen to make a nocturnal creature suddenly fear the dark. He couldn't imagine what it could be, but whatever it was, it had happened to Teaser—to small, frail, happy-go-lucky Rumpleteaser. He didn't ask, because he knew she wouldn't answer. Instead, he simply took her paw in his and rubbed it reassuringly.

"Do you think anyone 'eard me screaming?" She suddenly asked, her eyes wide with fear once more. Alonzo took a quick peek outside, just to be sure.

"I don't think so," he replied. "I think the lid kind of muffled the sound."

She nodded, looking down at her paws once more. She was embarrassed, he could tell. He came back to sit beside her.

"We'll figure something else out," he said gently. She gave another quick nod, biting her bottom lip and blinking back more tears.

"Hey," he put a paw under her chin, lifting her face to meet his. "It's OK."

Her eyes searched his, and he wondered what they were looking for. She gave an unreadable smile and leaned over, wrapping her arms around him. Alonzo wasn't sure what it meant, but he simply returned her embrace. They sat like this for a few moments, not moving, not speaking. Finally Teaser broke the spell and pulled away. She looked at the coffee can again.

"Oi'll do it," she said decisively. "Jus' gimme a little whoile to get used to it. Oi can do it; Oi promise."

Alonzo nodded in agreement. "I'll be back on night watch in two nights. We'll try again then."

The tabby queen took a deep breath and stared at her metallic nemesis. Alonzo knew that Rumpleteaser would conquer her fear or die trying.

"Will you come see me tomorrow?" She changed the subject suddenly, turning to him with hopeful eyes.

"I will," he promised. He gave her one last reassuring pat on the back, "I've got to get back. Teathrice will start to notice."

She smiled in understanding and he quickly left. Teaser turned her green eyes back to the coffee tin. _No time like the present_.

She gingerly climbed back in, slowly allowing her body to acclimate to the small space, although it really wasn't the space that bothered her. She wasn't going to put that dreaded lid back on, not yet, but she had two whole days to get there. She could teach herself to endure anything in two days' time, she told herself, although a small voice in the back of her head chided, _You've had years to overcome this fear, and it's still here_.

Teaser pushed the negative (albeit truthful) thought away. This was something that had to be done, so she would find a way to do it. Her mind returned to a few other things she must do before she left the yard. They were dangerous, but, like this task, they must be done. She took a deep breath. _No time like the present._

* * *

><p>Tugger was weeping again—deep, racking sobs that echoed in his empty room, seeping underneath his closed door and permeating the air around the others, who were seated in the main room. Cetty stood, as if she were going to comfort him, but her feet remained rooted to the floor and she merely looked forlornly at his door. Misto gently placed a paw on her shoulder and brought her back down to a sitting position.<p>

"Something has to be done," Electra spoke quietly, finally voicing the thought that haunted everyone's mind. "Tugger is no longer able to lead."

"You don't know that," Cetty replied hotly.

"Lecs is right," Pounce looked up, his eyes filled with sorrow. "We may have to accept the fact that Tugger won't recover."

"He will," Cetty said passionately. "I'll _make _him get better."

Mistoffelees did not speak. He simply placed his paw over Cetty's and gave her a sympathetic look. Etcetera took a deep breath. She knew they were right, "So, what do we do now?"

"We have an idea," Lecs spoke slowly, taking a moment to look at Mungojerrie, who nodded for her to continue. "It's dangerous, but it's the only choice we've got."

Pouncival noticed the look between the two cats; he felt his stomach sink. This couldn't be good. This couldn't be good at all.

* * *

><p>Teathrice shifted, rubbing her neck as she stifled a yawn. She was grateful to see Jellylorum walking towards her—the sun was almost up and the elder queen was coming to relieve Teathrice of her watch post.<p>

"Good morning," Jellylorum gave a faint smile as she looked up at Teathrice, still perched atop the old swing set.

"Good morning to you," Teathrice landed lightly beside her.

"Long night?"

"Yes, but a quiet one." Teathrice stretched her aching muscles again. She saw the lines under Jellylorum's eyes and couldn't help but recall Roary's concern. "Everything alright?"

"Everything's fine," Jellylorum replied easily, climbing up the post and balancing herself on the perch.

"Are you sure?" The instant the words left Teathrice's lips, she knew they were the wrong ones. Jellylorum shot her an uncharacteristically stony look.

"Everything's fine." She repeated, this time with an edge.

"Oh, yes, of course it is," Teathrice stammered quickly, turning away. She knew she should just shut her mouth and keep walking, but something made her stop and turn back, "But...you do know that if everything wasn't alright, and you ever wanted to talk about it—"

"Where is this coming from?" Jellylorum interrupted rather bluntly, but more out of curiosity that rudeness. Teathrice was a quiet cat who usually kept to herself; her sudden onslaught of outspoken concern was unusual and, in Jellylorum's opinion, unwarranted.

Teathrice was thrown off by the question. "Oh, nothing, I just—I—Roary mentioned the other day that he was worried—"

"Roary Huffersnuff?" Jellylorum sat up a little straighter. Teathrice nodded, somehow knowing that the situation was only going from bad to worse. "Why in heaviside was Roary Huffersnuff talking to _you_ about _me_?"

"It was just casual conversation, you know," Teathrice tried to assume an air of nonchalance, which she was certain failed. "We were just talking about everything that's happened, and how everyone was dealing with it...and he just mentioned that he was worried about you."

"So you and Roary still talk." Jellylorum had apparently chosen to switch gears.

"Yes," Teathrice answered simply. She could sense where this was going and she tried to head it off at the pass, "We're just friends, Jellylorum. Friends talk."

"But there was a time when you were more than just friends, wasn't there?" Although it was phrased as a question, Teathrice heard no actual query in Jellylorum's voice. The grey queen took a deep breath.

"He just mentioned that he was worried about you. I thought I'd at least ask to make sure you were alright."

Jellylorum didn't respond. Teathrice gave a sigh, "Have a nice day, Jellylorum."

With that, the grey queen turned and walked away, mentally chiding herself for daring to ask about Jellylorum in the first place. Although something from their conversation stood out. Maybe Jellylorum had a right to be upset, confronted with the idea that other cats were discussing her life behind her back—but when she asked about Teathrice's past relationship with Roary, why did Jellylorum sound so _jealous_?

Teathrice knew the answer. She just wondered if Jellylorum did.

* * *

><p>Pouncival stepped nervously into the darkened room. A single, bare bulb hung from the ceiling, creating a small orb of light. Within the orb sat a large crème-colored feline, aimlessly shuffling cards and arranging them on the table for a game of solitaire. This was the Lady Griddlebone, second-in-command to the Napoleon of Crime.<p>

A soft smile slipped onto her Himalayan features.

"Allo, Pounsi-vahl," her accent gave her voice a soft cadence. Her many years in London had taken away most of her native lilt, but there was still just enough to make her seem exotic—a trait that she often used to her advantage.

"Hello," Pouncival replied, unsure of what else to say.

"Dere is no need to be nervous," she assured him, not bothering to look up from her cards. "I don't have orders to kill you."

"And you always follow orders?"

Another crooked smile. This time she looked up, a hint of mischief playing at the corner of her eyes, "How else do you tink I became second-in-command?"

She had a point. Pouncival stepped forward, mentally willing away the knot in his stomach. "I've come to ask your boss for his help."

"Yes?" She purred, her dark eyes lighting up at the offer.

"Well, it's kind of a long story—"

"I have nothing but time," Griddlebone flashed a winning smile, motioning to the seat next to her around the crate the served as her card table. "So thrill me, Pounsi-vahl."

Pounce took a deep breath, "Munku became Jellicle Leader when Old Deuteronomy died. It was OK at first, but then he went a little…crazy. He started laying down some really harsh laws. Well, some of us got sick of it, and we ran away."

"Bravo," she gave a nod of encouragement.

"At first we were just gonna stay away…but then Munkustrap came after us. So we fought…and lost two of our best."

"Sorry to hear that," Griddlebone's dark eyes were filled with sorrow. "It is always hard when a comrade falls."

"Bombalurina was more than just a comrade," Pounce admitted softly. Griddlebone leaned forward, her light ears tipped in curiosity.

"Did you say Bombalurina was killed?" The shock was evident in the crème queen's voice. "The Red Queen is dead?"

"Yes," Pounce nodded glumly.

"Oh, Macavity will be most distraught," Griddlebone said quietly, her expression becoming very solemn. "He loved her very dearly."

"Everyone did," Pouncival gave a small smile.

"Some more than others," the creme queen said softly. She suddenly gathered her cards back into a single deck, unceremoniously ending her game. She assumed an air of all-business. "I cannot promise anything, Pounsi-vahl. But I shall relay your request to Macavity."

She stood. "He is not here, but I can reach him soon. Have you the time to wait?"

Pounce nodded, not sure of what else to do or say. He wasn't expecting to get an answer back from Macavity today—Lecs and Mungo has simply sent him in to breach the question to Griddlebone. Mungo had set up the meeting with Griddlebone, but had chosen Pounce to go as liaison—mainly because Mungo had once worked for the Hidden Paw, and by association, had worked with Griddlebone, and he knew that the Persian queen liked handsome young toms. That was the reason he gave the others, anyways. But there was another unspoken reason that Pouncival understood—he was more expendable than Misto or Lecs, and more trustworthy than Cetty. He didn't mind the mission, though. It felt good to leave the loft and actually get to _do _something, even if it was just playing pretty messenger boy.

Griddlebone had left her deck of cards on the crate, so Pouncival picked them up, shuffled them again, and set up his own game of solitaire. In reality, he wanted to look around, see what was lurking in the corners of the Hidden Paw's lair, but he knew that if he was caught, it wouldn't be a great note on which to start negotiations—he remembered an old adage that Skimbleshanks had oft quoted, "Stupidity killed the cat. Curiosity was framed." So he stayed seated and played his card game.

After about half an hour, Griddlebone returned. She wore a smile, which was a good sign.

"Come back in two night's time, at midnight," she announced. "Macavity will meet you then. And bring all of your rebels."

"All of them?" Pouncival was wary.

"All of them." She repeated. "He wants to personally meet each one."

"Sounds like a trap."

"It's part of the deal." Griddlebone's tone hadn't changed, but Pounce could sense the steel just under the surface of her words.

"I can't promise that," he answered. "The Rum Tum Tugger barely leaves his room; I doubt we can convince him to leave the loft for an entire night."

A strange look passed over the Persian's face, but she smiled, "That is understandable. I am sure Macavity will not mind, so long as you bring the others."

Pouncival felt that he was missing something, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. Instead he smiled and nodded in agreement.

* * *

><p>Alonzo entered Teaser's hiding place, looking around for the tabby-striped queen and feeling a tremor of alarm when he didn't see her.<p>

"Teaser?" He moved the pillow, thinking she'd burrowed under it to go to sleep again.

"In 'ere," her voice was muffled. He looked over at the coffee tin. The lid was now firmly on, with small holes punched in it to allow for air and light. He removed the plastic top to see Teaser's triumphant face.

"Oi told ya Oi'd do it," she grinned, her green eyes twinkling. "Once Oi put the holes in it, Oi could see bits of loight. Jus' enough to keep me from goin' batty—provoided you dohn' leave me in 'ere for more'n a few minutes."

The petite queen easily slid out of the container, still pleased with herself. Alonzo couldn't help but smile at her adorable expression. He felt a pang when he realized that he would miss her. She was easy to talk to; she understood loss—he never had to explain why he was upset or pretend that he wasn't still mourning Cassandra. She didn't think he was a traitor for crying over his dead former lover; she didn't question his emotions because she was going through the same grief over Bomba's death. Over the past few days, she had become his closest friend and only confidant. How could he let her go?

She noticed his sad expression and immediately became concerned, "Wot's wrong?"

Alonzo wanted to admit the truth, but he knew it would only make things worse—he knew Teaser would feel guilty, or would ask him to run away with her, and Alonzo didn't want either of those things to happen.

She stepped forward and gently placed her paw on his shoulder, her lovely green eyes filled with compassion. Teaser wasn't a mind-reader, but she seemed to understand the war that was waging within Alonzo's heart, because she simply wrapped him into a hug and held him there for quite some time.

It was such a simple gesture, yet one of such intimacy and comfort that he felt his spirit shift, as if his worries and stress were being melted away and infused with some new power, as if Teaser's strength was being transferred into his bones.

Stepping back, he disengaged from her embrace. He could see the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. Suddenly, he leaned in, pulling her face forward into a gentle kiss. With one last smile, he said, "Be careful. I'll be back tomorrow."

He disappeared into the night, leaving a shell-shocked Teaser in his wake. She gently touched her lips. Her stomach still flip-flopped over his impulsive action, and she wasn't sure what to think about it.

"Gory," she whispered. "Wot jus' happened?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

_****Author's Note: So glad some of my chickadees are still here! Thanks for all the reviews and for letting me know that someone still wants to hear the rest of this tale!****_

"It's done." Pouncival announced as he entered the loft. The rest of the rebels, who had all been anxiously awaiting his return, looked at one another, unsure of whether to be relieved or even more concerned.

"We meet with Macavity, two nights from now, at midnight. In the hangar next to the wharf."

"We?" Electra shot a worried glance at Mungojerrie.

"All of us, except for Tugger," Pouncival said quietly. He also turned his gaze to Mungojerrie, adding almost apologetically, "It was Macavity's only stipulation."

Mungo nodded, silently approving of Pouncival's move. As the saying went, beggars can't be choosers, and they certainly were in no position to refuse Macavity's wishes.

Electra slowly turned to Mistoffelees, her eyes saying what her mouth couldn't—she was the only one who knew that Macavity was his father. She searched his face for some kind of sign, some kind of clue as to how he felt about this new development. He simply offered a small smile, but she couldn't read the true feelings behind it.

"What if it's a trap?" Cetty's voice quavered.

"We've nothin' to lose," Mungo reminded her. He gave a wry grin, "'Cept our loives, of course."

Cetty did not share his humor. She turned and went into her bedroom.

There was a pause as the others watched her leave. Then Mungo spoke, his voice directed at Electra but his eyes still focused on Cetty's now-closed door, "That'un moight end up being a liability."

Lecs understood the implication. She gave a heavy sigh, "I can handle her."

Mungo turned back to her, "Ya sure about that?"

The dark queen clenched her jaw. She knew that Mungo had every right to ask such a question, but his lack of faith in her still annoyed her.

"I can handle her," she repeated quietly, her tone holding more steel this time.

The tiger-striped tom took another moment to study her face, then gave a curt nod of approval. Lecs was sure that his baiting had been yet another test, and she fought back another wave of irritation. Hadn't she been here since the beginning? Hadn't she proven herself? Hadn't she been chosen, above all the others? Why in Heaviside did she suddenly have to re-prove her loyalty, her devotion to the cause?

With one last angry flick of her tail, Electra went to the window and climbed onto the roof. Mungojerrie watched her go, his expression completely unreadable. Then he turned and walked away as well, quietly shutting the door to his room. Misto and Pounce watched this entire silent exchange, neither one quite sure what they'd just witnessed or what it meant for them. Misto looked at Pounce, who merely shook his head with a heavy sigh, "I need a drink. Fancy a trip to the pub?"

* * *

><p>"Good morning," Tantomile gave a small smile as she sat next to Alonzo, who was enjoying the sunshine by lying across a stack of old books.<p>

The black and white tom sat up, slightly startled by Tanto's sudden friendliness—they hardly ever spoke.

"Good morning to you, too."

Tanto sat there for a moment in silence, carefully scanning the yard to make sure no one else was within earshot.

"She can't stay here," she said quietly.

"Who?" Alonzo tried to keep the nervousness out of his voice. Tanto simply gave him a pointed look. She knew.

"How did you know?" He asked, looking around furtively.

The black and white queen delicately picked an orange hair from his coat, "Elementary, Dear Alonzo."

"There's more than one orange cat in London," he reminded her.

"True," Tanto said quietly, "I've also seen her."

"What?"

She nodded, "Last night, while I was on watch, I spotted her creeping around the yard." Noting Alonzo's alarmed expression, she assured him, "Everyone else was asleep. No one else saw her."

Alonzo did not reply. Tantomile thought back to the previous night, and added quietly, "It was almost as if she was searching for something. She was going around in a pattern—couldn't quite make out why or what exactly the pattern was, but there was some method to it."

"How could she be so stupid?" Alonzo was still dumbfounded by the news.

Tantomile shrugged, "If there's one thing I remember about Rumpleteaser, it's that she's actually much smarter than she lets on. There's a reason behind it all, I'm sure."

"Well, that reason could get her killed," Alonzo growled.

"And you, too," the mystic's yellow eyes suddenly locked onto his. The fear reflected in them was unmistakable. "She can't stay here, Alonzo. Promise me—"

"She's leaving tomorrow," he answered curtly. "We're supposed to clear the eastern section of the yard tomorrow morning; I'm going to sneak her out of here while everyone's busy moving the rest of the rubble."

Tanto nodded, but she couldn't help adding, "She should have left days ago."

"She's been injured," he countered. "I couldn't just let her go, not until I was certain that she's well enough to travel."

Tantomile gave him an incredulous look, "She's practically making laps around the yard. I'd say she's more than well enough to travel."

The black and white tom shook his head, looking away. Suddenly, Tantomile understood, "You don't want her to leave."

Alonzo's head snapped back around at the suggestion. "What are you saying?"

"You've become attached to her," she stated simply. "For whatever reason, you care for her. And the thought of letting her go scares you."

He did not reply. He simply walked away.

Tantomile shook her head. _The strange predicaments we allow our hearts to enter into_.

* * *

><p>Catrice, Deuteronomus, and Aleyn were all curled up together atop the TSE car, dozing in the warm sunshine. They'd spent the afternoon playing amongst the rubble and were thoroughly worn out from their imaginary adventures. Aleyn gave another body-wracking cough, jolting her brother and sister awake. Deuteronomus peered over his shoulder at his sister, "Leyn, y'okay?"<p>

"Yeah," came the weak reply as Aleyn curled back into a little ball, trying to go back to sleep.

"Maybe we should go get Gran," Catrice added helpfully. Deuteronomus could see the concern in her eyes.

"I'm fine," Aleyn muttered grumpily. She had always been the runt, the sickly one, and she hated it when they fussed over her. She didn't like feeling weak, somehow less than them, inferior in some strange way.

Catrice and Deuteronomus exchanged worried looks, but they both knew better than to say anything. Aleyn might have been the weakest of the litter physically, but she had a temper that would strike fear into a full-grown cat, and they didn't want to tempt it.

Deuteronomus shook his head with a sigh and curled up against his littlest sister. Catrice watched their faces, biting her bottom lip with worry. She still wanted to say something to Gran, to tell her that Aleyn wasn't getting any better—she actually seemed to be getting worse. She coughed more at night, coughed whenever they played, coughed when she ran too hard, coughed when she didn't move at all. But it wasn't just the fear of Aleyn's wrath that kept her from speaking up—it seemed that everytime someone mentioned the cough to Gran or Father, they both became angry. Catrice wasn't sure what was happening, exactly, but she knew there was some kind of disagreement brewing between them, and she didn't want to make it worse by mentioning it again.

So she simply wrapped her tail around herself and tried to settle back into that drowsy, dreamy state which always made her feel safe and secure. Sadly, she couldn't feel either of those things. Changes were happening all around her, and although she couldn't see or understand them all, she knew, with every fiber of her being, that soon everything would be different. And not all of those differences would be pleasant ones.

* * *

><p>Alonzo's anger stayed at a full boil all day, but there was no way that he could go to Rumpleteaser—someone could easily see him walking across the yard and wonder what he was up to, and with Tantomile's warning fresh on his mind, he was reminded of how dangerous the whole situation really was.<p>

He had forgotten—forgotten the punishment for traitors, for those who aided them, forgotten how hurt the faithful Jellicles were, how confused by the rebel actions. The first few days after the attack, cats were still recovering from the shock of it all. A few had witnessed the deaths of Cassandra and Bombalurina, but no one had dared to ask what happened to the bodies. There was some sorrow at the loss, but it was quickly replaced with Munkustrap's words. Words which reminded them of the two queens' treachery, of the "brutality" of the rebels, of Mistoffelees' power, which could kill them all—Munkustrap conveniently forgot to point out that Misto had not, in fact, used his powers to kill them, but rather to subdue them. And the majority of the faithful had forgotten this as well. The rebels were evil now, hell-bent on destroying those who remained. There would be no truce, only death for those who surrendered. And for the faithful, so certain of their victory, that was quite alright. The rebels had betrayed them—betrayed their families, their friends, their home. They did not deserve anything less than death.

How Alonzo had ignored this building resentment surprised even him. He heard the talk, saw the anger in the faces of the others, but it never really sank in. He had buried Cass in a dignified manner; he was keeping Teaser safe from Munku's clutches, and yet, he still hadn't realized just how dangerous his actions were. He hadn't thought about it at all. It had simply been the right thing to do.

Regardless of how he forgot, Tantomile had brought reality back into sparkling clarity. Maybe her statement was true—maybe he had been delaying Teaser's departure. But now Alonzo had to push his own selfish reasons aside and face the fact that Rumpleteaser was still in very real danger. It was time to release her back into the wild, wild world.

Despite his mixed emotions, anger still presided when night finally fell and he was able to sneak way to Teaser's hiding place. Although she smiled when he entered, her expression quickly changed when she saw the stormclouds in his eyes. She didn't dare speak.

"Have you lost your mind?" He spoke each word slowly, carefully. His tone sent a shiver of fear down Teaser's spine. She knew what he was referring to. She swallowed nervously.

"No one saw me. Oi was careful—"

"Someone did see you!" Alonzo shot back. "How else d'you think I'd know about it? Tantomile waltzed up to me this morning and told me that she saw you running around the yard!"

Teaser's gaze fell to the ground. She made a mental note to wring Tanto's neck next time she saw the mystic.

Alonzo gave a heavy sigh, "Why, Tease?"

She didn't answer. He kept prodding.

"She said it seemed as if you were looking for something. What were you looking for?"

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she meekly replied, "Oi was trying to foind where they buried Bombie."

Alonzo felt as if he'd been sucker-punched in the gut. Now it was his turn to remain silent. Teaser continued.

"Oi found a grave—near the trees. Oi dunno if it's Bombie's or not. 'Cos Oi only found one, and there should 'ave been two." She began to weep now, her shoulders heaving in small, skittering bursts. "There should 'ave been two."

He reached over and drew her head into his chest, gently patting her back. He wondered how long Rumpleteaser had worried over her sister and her friend, hoping they were properly buried and sent off to Heaviside Layer.

"The grave is Cassandra's," he said quietly as Teaser continued to sob into his chest. "I…I couldn't find Bomba's body. I think the rebels took her with them. If she had still been here, I would have taken care of her as well."

"Thank you," her voice was still etched with tears, but there was evident relief. If Tugger and the rest of the gang had taken Bombalurina's remains with them, then she had surely been given a proper burial.

She looked up at him, her fur mottled with tears, "Munku doesn't know that you buried Cass, does he?"

It wasn't really a question. He simply smiled. She shook her head. "Gory, Lonz, you sure are puttin' yourself on a thin limb in a very hoigh wind."

Alonzo had never heard the expression before, but it certainly described his predicament. "That's what I came to tell you tonight, Teaser—things are still very dangerous, but we need to get you out of here as soon as possible."

She nodded, wiping away her tears. Alonzo assumed an air of all-business, sidling away from her and moving closer to the canister, "Tomorrow, we're clearing another section of the yard. Everyone will be running back and forth, moving things around. It's our best shot. There'll be enough commotion going on that I can roll this out to the curb without attracting attention."

Teaser nodded again. She felt the warmth of Alonzo's body removed from her, but something told her it was more than just his physical presence that was withdrawing. They hadn't talked about the kiss. Neither of them were quite sure what it meant, much less how to talk about it, so they moved awkwardly around each other, dancing around that unspeakable subject and trying not to stumble upon whatever magical mixture of elements caused it in the first place. This was not the time for emotional complications.

Still, the unspoken hung over them like incense, seen in every movement, felt in every breath, every quick diverting of eyes, every thought.

"I've gotta go," he announced, rather abruptly. He didn't make eye contact, "I'll be back tomorrow."

"Lonz?" Her quiet voice stopped him. He turned back around.

"Thank you," she offered a soft smile. "For all of it."

This time, his eyes met hers. "You're welcome."

He gave one last nod, smiling as he left. Teaser crept to the edge of the crate and watched him walk away. Her heart sank at the realization that she was truly, finally leaving. She was instantly filled with confusion—shouldn't she be relieved? Shouldn't she be excited to return to the rebels, to see Mungo again? _Mungojerrie_. Oh, Bast, the very thought of him brought tears to her eyes. Her chest heaved under a weight of emotion.

It shouldn't be a hard decision. She didn't belong here, in this yard, surrounded by enemies. She belonged at Mungo's side, rallying her troops, surrounded by her family. Why was her heart tugging her back in this direction? She knew the answer. Going home to Mungojerrie meant leaving Alonzo. Leaving Alonzo alone, without anyone to talk to, without anyone to understand what he was going through. There was something here, something more, something she wasn't quite sure that she wanted to leave behind.

_Silly kit_, she berated herself. _Going all daft just over a little peck._

But it hadn't been just a little peck. There had been a warmth behind it, a hunger she'd never felt from Mungojerrie. An appreciation. That was an odd word for it, but it was the word that best described the feeling.

"That's enough," she spoke aloud, moving back to the corner, as if physically removing herself from this line of thought. Alonzo had saved her, taken care of her, been her only friend and confidant in the wake of her sister's death. Of course they'd become close. Of course they'd shared a moment. But it was a moment, nothing more. That single moment wasn't worth cashing in the lifetime of moments spent with Mungojerrie. She knew that. Of course she knew that. So why was there a strange tug of hesitation in her heart?

* * *

><p>Asparagus stood at his post, wrapping his tail around himself to guard against the unusually cool night air. Across the yard, he could see the silhouette of Teathrice, her tail also curled tightly around herself, hunched over the top of a chest of drawers. She glanced over at him, the lamplight flashing in her eyes for the briefest of seconds. She didn't wave or call out a greeting; she simply turned her head back to her post.<p>

There was a movement below. Asparagus peered down to see his sister walking quietly through the piles of rubble and ash.

"Getting some much-needed alone time?" He called down softly, trying not to startle her or wake any of the other cats in the process.

She smiled up at him, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Trying to clear my head."

"Trying but not succeeding?" He guessed. This earned him another tired smile.

"She's been gone for ten days now."

He didn't have to ask who 'she' was. Jemima's presence—or more appropriately, the lack thereof—had been deeply felt by many in the Tribe. No one knew what had happened, and no one dared to ask. Demeter's grief was evident; no cat wanted to be the one who made it worse by asking what happened to her eldest kit.

Still, Asparagus was her brother; he knew her better than most, at least at times. He also knew that Jemima had been alive and well when she left them in the woods.

"Is she somewhere safe?" He asked quietly, and he immediately regretted it. Of course, Demeter had no way of knowing where she was or if she was safe. Asking the question only served to remind her of this.

"One can only hope," she replied tiredly. Suddenly, she looked even smaller than her usual petite frame. Asparagus came down from his post, wrapping her into a hug. Demeter didn't cry; Asparagus didn't expect her to. She simply took a deep breath, drawing on her brother's strength.

She stood a little straighter, suddenly feeling the need to explain, "I couldn't make her come back—not after what she's been through. I couldn't force her to relive it, every moment of every day, stuck in that yard. I couldn't."

"You did the right thing," Asparagus assured his sister. In truth, he wasn't exactly sure what Demeter was talking about, but he had seen the blood on Jemima's paws and later heard of Bomba's and Cass' deaths, so he was able to make a pretty good guess.

His sister took another shaky breath; there was a moment of silence, during which Asparagus knew her thoughts wandered to her daughter.

"She's a smart kit," he said softly. "She knows how to take care of herself. Besides, she's a Jellicle—not just any Jellicle, but the grandkit of Old Deuteronomy. That holds it own weight; it'll keep her safe even when her wits cannot."

Demeter bit her lip in uncertainty, "Jellicle birthright doesn't hold the prestige it once did. And we've made plenty of enemies over the years—many of whom would love a chance to strike out at a Jellicle, even one as sweet and innocent as Jemi."

"You can't think like that."

"I can't help but think like that," she returned sadly. "She's spent most of her life in the yard; she's never been on her own. How could she know how to survive in the outside world?"

He knew there was truth behind her words, but he also knew the danger behind them. He placed his paws on her shoulders, firmly turning her to face him, to look him in the eye, "She will be fine. She's tough, she's smart, she's resourceful. If you didn't think she could make it, you never would have let her leave."

It was his last statement that truly met its mark—he felt the tension in her shoulders dissipate, saw the relief flood her eyes. She nodded, blinking back a new set of tears, "You're right, of course, you're right. Jemi can handle herself."

"She can handle herself just fine," he reiterated, wrapping his sister into another hug and giving her a reassuring pat on the back. Then he took a deep breath and finally asked the question that had been on his mind for quite some time, "How much does Munkustrap know?"

He felt her stiffen again. Her voice was small, "He just knows she's gone. I didn't know what else to say, and he never asks, so...so there it is."

Asparagus gave a slight nod, and part of him felt glad that Munkustrap didn't know anything more—he wasn't exactly sure why, but he learned long ago not to second-guess his instincts. His instincts had told him that Munkustrap didn't need to know where Jemima went, or that Demeter had actually encouraged her to abandon the Tribe.

He didn't chide her for not telling her mate the truth, and in this lack of words, Demeter understood that Asparagus shared her fear—she wasn't alone in thinking that Munku would see it as a betrayal, see it as a stab at his leadership, a challenge to his authority (although that's what it was, wasn't it?).

She gently disengaged from her brother's embrace, offering a sheepish smile, "You need to get back to your post."

He tossed a glance over at the dark silhouette across the yard. "Ah, I'm sure Tea could handle it just fine on her own."

"She volunteers for the post more than any other cat," Demeter commented, glad to find another vein of conversation.

He shrugged, "Wants to keep busy, I suppose. Can't say that I blame her for that."

Alonzo suddenly rounded the corner, his mind obviously caught in some very deep thoughts, for he seemed startled to see them. His surprise was quickly replaced with his usual cheery demeanor, "Asparagus, Demeter. How are you both this evening?"

"We're well," Asparagus answered. He looked around casually, "What are you doing in this section of the yard at this hour?"

"Same thing you are, I suppose," the black and white tom answered, motioning to Demeter. "I couldn't sleep, so I've been out walking around."

Demeter saw the secrets behind Alonzo's eyes, knew him well enough to know he was lying, but she also knew (perhaps better than anyone) how precious and tiring secrets can be, so she simply smiled and jerked her head back in the direction of her den. "Walk me home, so Asparagus can go back to his post without worrying over my safety."

Asparagus gave a light chuckle as he easily climbed back up to his post, giving them a small wave as they walked away.

"We haven't seen much of you lately," Demeter commented quietly, but her voice was still pleasant and conversational.

"Been busy," he replied. "There's so much that needs to be done to bring the yard back to its former glory."

She cast a look over the heaps of rubble and ash, lined in silver by the moonlight, "I don't think anything can bring it back to what it was."

"No, I suppose not," he said softly, and Demeter didn't miss the wistful note in his voice. They had both grown up in the Junkyard, but Demeter had also lived with humans, in other houses and flats—for Alonzo, the yard had been his only home, his only refuge, the only thing he truly knew. He loved it, treated it almost as if it were his kit, maintaining it and caring for it as lovingly as his father had. She knew a part of that love and nurture was what Alonzo saw as his duty, dedicated to the memory of his father. But part of it was simply because Alonzo knew that by taking care of the yard, he was taking care of many other Jellicles who, like him, saw this as the only home they'd ever known. He had always been the kindest of Deuteronomy's sons, the most compassionate, the one who was best suited to become the Jellicle Leader.

Demeter almost said as much to him, but she wisely decided against it. Regardless of how she felt about Munku's attempts to protect the Tribe, she knew that he came from a place of caring—his actions may be drastic, but it was simply because he didn't know any other way to keep them safe. He was still a young leader, still learning how to balance control and restraint, and all while facing challenges that his predecessor had never encountered. With Macavity at one side and the rebels at the other, Munkustrap was caught between allowing his subjects freedom and protecting them from outside forces. It wasn't an easy balance, and they were still trying to find that perfect combination. Complaining about his leadership skills wouldn't help anything—especially since she was his mate, the one who was supposed to support him unconditionally.

But she didn't support him, did she? The thought pricked her conscience. She had let Jemima run away—no, had _begged_ her to leave and never look back—and had thought of running herself, if not for the certainty that she would have been caught. But that idea had been a fleeting one. Part of her still loved Munkustrap, even though it was at constant war with the part of her that feared him, the part of her that knew something dark lurked beneath, the part that knew he was responsible for the blood on her daughter's paws long before the truth had actually been spoken.

These thoughts and emotions whirled around her mind like a cauldron of cursed witches' brew, only becoming stronger and more toxic with each turn. She shook her head, trying to will them away.

"Something the matter?" Alonzo's gentle voice broke through the calamity of her mind.

"What? Oh, no," she answered quickly, too quickly and Alonzo noticed this, but said nothing. He had enough secrets of his own, enough conflicting feelings in his own heart and mind that needed sorting. He understood the desire to keep them to oneself, so he let Demeter keep hers. If she wanted to speak them aloud, then he would be there to listen, to help, but he wouldn't press her. He would wait until she was ready to share them, if she ever was ready. He wondered if he would ever be able to tell anyone about Cass, about Rumpleteaser, about all the treason he'd committed in the name of love and compassion and higher duty. It was a sad thought, realizing there were entire chapters of his life would forever remain unknown, unread by any soul. That was what he missed the most about his relationship with Cassandra—sure, they fought, they pushed and pulled in a whirlpool of jealousy and petty fights, but at least they knew each other. She knew the little things, had witnessed the little moments of his life—regardless of how she'd reacted to them, she was at least aware of them. His life had not gone unnoticed, unwitnessed, and somehow, that had given it meaning, even in the most mundane of times.

And now his witness was gone. The one who had noticed, who had even cared at times, whose attention had served to make his life have some kind of substance, was forever parted. What did that mean? Was his life now without meaning, without depth? Without a witness to it, did it cease to even be a life?

He didn't have an answer. To be honest, the possibility of that answer frightened him.

Teaser had been a witness, though it was for a short time—she knew the things he'd done, the things he could never speak of to others. She would bear this account with her whenever she left; she would tell the other rebels of his actions, of his attempts to bring some dignity to their fallen comrade. Perhaps that was enough—she wouldn't witness everything after that, she may never witness a single second of his life after this, but she had been there for the moments that truly counted, the moments he mourned, the moments he honored, the moments he truly stood by his convictions, no matter the cost. Perhaps that was enough.

Perhaps it was. But that didn't stop him from wishing that someone could witness all the moments after that. Still, he would learn to be content with that. At least some of his life had been seen, had been known, truly known. Surely that was enough. Perhaps one day, someone else would come along—someone he could trust, someone for whom he could open the book of his life, turning over dusty pages and long-forgotten passages, someone who could witness it all, without fear or condemnation. Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.

Oh, perhaps. What a fragile and hopeful word.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Etcetera rubbed the last remnants of sleep from her eyes, cautiously peering around the room, which happened to be empty. She climbed down from her bunk and walked into the main room, where Pouncival and Electra were already stretching and limbering up muscles for their morning run.

"So what are we doing today?" Cetty smiled brightly at her roommates. She had decided that, regardless how she felt about Tugger's downward spiral or Mungo's decision to partner with Macavity, she was going to remain positive. She wasn't a warrior or tactician, so she might as well be head cheerleader.

"The same thing we do every day," Electra replied flatly, stretching out her dark legs. "Train."

Cetty noted her friend's sour tone, but she chose to ignore it. She looked around, "Where's Misto?"

Pounce gave a slight chuckle, "He's a bit...under the weather this morning."

"Again?" Cetty felt a wave a pity for him. He'd been unwell the morning before, too. "He isn't sick, is he?"

Electra shot Pounce a dark look, "He'd be just fine, if someone hadn't kept him out at the pub til four o'clock this morning—for the_ second_ night in a row."

Cetty suddenly understood that nature of Misto's illness and gave a small laugh as well. Misto seemed to be the most straight-laced of the bunch; the thought of him stumbling home hammered was amusing.

"I'm glad you can find the humor in this situation," Electra said darkly.

"Lecs," Pounce warned.

"Don't!" She snapped at him. "It's your fault to begin with. We meet Macavity tonight—_tonight_!—and the only one with the mystical powers to keep him from killing us all has a hangover. How could you be so stupid, Pounce?"

"You're the one who let us go in the first place," Pouncival said glumly, but even he knew that he sounded petty and childish. He knew that Misto had been nervous and fidgety ever since they'd announced the meeting with Macavity, although he wasn't exactly sure why, and he'd simply tried to blow off a little steam by having a few rounds at the pub. He didn't realize Misto was such a light weight, or that he wouldn't know when to stop. Still, Electra was right—he took a deep breath, swallowing his pride as he said, "You're right, Lecs. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry."

Lecs sat back, slightly stunned by his response. She had been gearing up for a row—and if she were being honest with herself, that's what she'd wanted. She had felt cagey and off-balance all week, and the stress of being burdened with her new leadership position, as well as the impending meeting with the Napoleon of Crime, had done nothing to help the situation. She wanted to yell, to scream and rant and push someone else around, to somehow physically eject these feelings from her body, and yet here was Pouncival, agreeing with her and acting truly repentant.

Her anger melted from her bones like ice in spring's thaw, leaving her still shaky and frustrated. She couldn't be angry at him, even thought she desperately wanted to be angry at someone. Anger was something she could handle. Fear was not.

She gave a heavy sigh, "It's alright, Pounce. You're not Misto's keeper; he should have known better."

"It's gonna be OK, Lecs," he said gently, placing his paw on her shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze of reassurance. She nodded in agreement, but he knew that she was merely placating him, pushing her own anger back down because she had to, not because she wanted to.

"Mungo's waiting for us," she said, turning and climbing out the window and onto the roof.

Pouncival and Etcetera exchanged worried looks.

"She hasn't been this way since we left the yard," he spoke quietly. Electra had always been an angry kit—angry at being abandoned at birth, angry at the world, angry at anyone who told her what to do. Sometimes it seemed that perpetual indignation was her normal state of being. She wasn't always as harsh or as snappish, but it always bubbled just below the surface, ready to unleash its wrath on any unsuspecting cat who may try to challenge her or upset her in any way.

She hadn't been that way since they joined the rebels. She'd found a place, found a purpose, and it had made her much calmer, much more pleasant, slower to anger, less likely to lash out. But since the deaths of Bombalurina and Cassandra, she'd been thrown back into the tailspin of insecurity and anger. Pouncival wasn't sure she could handle it this time—and this time, the stakes were much higher than when they were simply kits running around the yard.

Cetty gave a heavy sigh, "She's got a lot resting on her shoulders now. More than she ever asked for."

"We all do," he gently reminded her. Cetty blinked back a few tears.

"I didn't think it would be like this," she admitted. "I spent the last few months in absolute fear, locked in the yard, being the only one who knew what Munkustrap was really like. I thought, if I could just get away, it'd all be OK."

There was a pause as Cetty became lost in her own thoughts.

"And now?" Pounce asked quietly, although he already knew the answer.

"And now…now I no longer have fear." Cetty moved to the window. "Now I just have loneliness and sorrow."

She heard Pounce's sigh of agreement behind her.

"We'd better get up there," he said, slipping past her and climbing out the window. She dutifully followed.

Mungojerrie and Electra were waiting, both of their faces grimly set in the direction of the rising sun. Their breath came out in crisp, grey clouds, and in the early morning light, they looked like two apocalyptic angels, bathed in fire with smoke billowing from their mouths and nostrils.

"Ready," Cetty broke the spell, offering a small smile. With a curt nod, Mungojerrie started at a trot, waiting for the others to fall into step behind him as they crossed a wire onto the next rooftop.

* * *

><p>"Today's the day," Alonzo announced with little fanfare as he entered Teaser's hiding place. It seemed strange for him to be there during the day. Teaser could tell from the dark circles under his eyes that he hadn't slept—she knew, because she hadn't slept either, tossing and turning and worrying all night. So much could go wrong, so much hinged on tiny moments and missteps. Alonzo moved over to the coffee tin, setting it on its side, "Your chariot awaits."<p>

Teaser forced a smile at the quip, taking a deep breath as she stepped into the canister. Alonzo leaned in, his eyes filled with concern, "You're sure you can do this?"

"Yes."

"Because once I roll this out into plain sight, there's no going back. You can't make a sound."

The tabby put on her bravest smile, "Oi'll be roight as rain."

He saw the trepidation in her eyes, but he simply nodded, "Right. Here we go."

He offered a quick smile of reassurance before placing the lid on the canister, and her chest gave an involuntary shudder, but she quickly focused on the points of light and told herself to keep calm. Teaser felt a jolt as Alonzo began to roll move the tin, and pretty soon it wasn't her chest that was heaving, but rather her stomach. She'd practiced sitting in the canister, but she hadn't thought about the fact that Alonzo would be _rolling_ it—and she would be rolling along inside of it, as if she'd been caught in a washing machine. They hit a rock, which caused a rather unpleasant bump, and he quietly whispered an apology. She knew he was going as slowly as he dared to minimize the spinning feeling, but she wished he would just go quickly and get the whole ordeal over with—of course, she couldn't voice this thought, because she had no idea if anyone was nearby, and she didn't want to jeopardize their already tenuous attempt at escape.

She tried to think of something else, to go somewhere else mentally, but each roll seemed only to jumble her thoughts as well as her body. She simply tried (rather unsuccessfully, with all the spinning and bumping around) to focus on the little dots of light twinkling through the lid.

She heard muffled voices passing.

"Hullo, Lonz, watcha got there?"

"Oh, just another piece for the scrap heap," his voice called back cheerily.

"It'd make a nice plaything for the kits, dontcha think? Perhaps you should take it over to the other side."

Teaser silently cursed whoever was trying to be oh-so-helpful.

Alonzo's voice came again, never losing its playful tone, "One of 'em's likely to fall of it and smack their head. Besides, the kits are good enough at finding their own ways to get into trouble. No use in me helping them, is there?"

The other voice chuckled in agreement, and with that, they continued rolling along. Rumpleteaser felt the canister finally hitting the hard concrete of the sidewalk; she knew they were officially out of the yard. The canister continued to roll for a short distance, then stopped. The lid was pulled back and Alonzo's face appeared once more.

"Not too bad, was it?" He asked, his face skewed in pity.

"Not too bad," she returned, taking a moment to reorient her senses. Her head was still spinning and she still felt like she could toss her cookies all over the sidewalk.

"Deep breaths," he reminded her gently.

After a few moments, she finally felt strong enough to stand again, slowly and unsteadily slipping out of the canister.

The sun was warm on her coat and the brightness made her squint—it had been days since she'd be out in the daylight. Alonzo watched her with careful eyes, silently assessing her movements, telling himself that she was truly able to make the journey.

She turned to him with a smile. There was a moment of awkward silence; neither one was sure of how to say goodbye.

"Well, we did it," he announced.

She nodded, smiling in relief, "Yes, we did."

"Promise you'll take care of yourself," his voice was gentle.

"Oi will." She wasn't sure what else to say. She just knew that she didn't want him to leave. Not yet. But seconds were ticking by and with each one, the chances of getting caught grew greater.

"I should get back," he said, almost apologetically. She nodded, surprised to find herself blinking back tears. He turned to leave, then turned back around, wrapping her into a hug, which she gladly returned.

He tried to pull away, but she held on tighter.

"Please," Teaser whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotion. "Come wif me."

"I can't," Alonzo replied. Teaser couldn't see his face, but she could hear the tears in his voice. "I have my duty to the Tribe—"

"Then whoiy are you foighting for Munkustrap?" Teaser asked gently, finally pulling back from the embrace. Her green eyes locked onto his, and she searched for something, some kind of answer to the riddle that was this cat.

"I swore an oath," he reminded her.

Teaser looked down at the ground. She wanted to argue, to point out that Munkustrap had sworn an oath, too, and look where it got them—but she knew that now was not the time for hot words and regretful actions.

So instead, she simply nodded.

"Thank you." She spoke quietly, almost reverently, raising her eyes to meet his again.

His gaze never left her, "You'll...you'll tell the others what I did...what I did for Cass?"

A smile bloomed across her features, compassion shining from her eyes, "Of course."

"Good," he gave a curt nod. "I don't want them to worry, to think—"

"Oi understand," she interrupted comfortingly. She cast one last glance at the yard, "Oi'd best be off."

"Be careful," he warned, watching her slowly slip into the shadows of the nearby alley, meticulously picking her way around puddles and piles of debris. She flashed him one last winning smile over her shoulder before disappearing completely.

Alonzo took a deep breath and placed the lid back on the coffee canister. It would make a good prop for the kits to tumble and tussle around in. With a soft smile, he turned back to the yard, rolling the canister along as he hummed a hopeful tune. The danger was gone. Everything was going to be alright.

* * *

><p>"Quit yer lollygaggin'!" Mungojerrie yelled to the cats scrambling behind him. "This ain't a walk in the park! Push!"<p>

"We're pushing!" Etcetera yelled back, or at least as best she could through her panting. Today the world seemed to move in slow motion, and despite the fact that she was becoming more accustomed to the morning exercises, it was still quite a feat to scale these rooftops.

"Quit talking and push harder!" Lecs' voice ripped through the morning air. She, of course, was right behind Mungojerrie, and her lungs were conditioned well enough to be able to truly yell without losing wind.

Pouncival simply shook his head. Perhaps the runs were good for more than just exercise—it gave Lecs an excuse to bellow and rage to her heart's content.

Cetty had stopped moving—Pounce could no longer hear her cursing behind him. He turned back and saw her standing on the edge of a roof, head ducked down as she took in big gulps of air. With a slight smile, he doubled back.

"Don't breath like that; it'll hurt your windpipe," he warned. Cetty obviously wasn't listening to him. Her attention was focused elsewhere.

"Tell me who that looks like," she motioned down the street.

Pounce turned to look at where she motioned, and his heart stopped for a full two beats.

"Teaser," he whispered, blinking to make sure it wasn't a trick of the light. But, no, she was still there—a small tabby cat, gingerly walking through the grey street. At such a distance, he couldn't be entirely sure, but he hoped against all hope that it was her.

By now, Mungo and Lecs had realized that they had stopped.

"Keep moving!" Electra's voice echoed across the stillness.

Down in the street, the petite cat's head whipped up at the sound. Fox-like ears swiveled, large green eyes looked up, and Pouncival knew beyond all shadow of doubt.

"Rumpleteaser!" He bellowed, nearly falling over the edge as he leaned forward to yell at her. Luckily, Cetty grabbed his tail and pulled him back to safety.

The cat's eyes finally found his face, and her face lit up in response.

"Pounce!" She called up.

"Rumpleteaser's back!" Pounce shouted joyously, causing Mungojerrie and Electra to immediately spin around and race back towards them. He looked back down at her, "Stay there! We're coming down!"

Pounce quickly found a way to the ground, clambering and skittering down the building through fire escapes and window ledges, with Cetty right behind him, laughing in joy and surprise despite her breathlessness.

Rumpleteaser moved to the side of the building, a smile on her face. She could see Mungojerrie's face appear over the edge of the roof, and her heart skipped a beat. That face—how she had missed that face! She didn't even realize just how much she'd missed it until now.

"Teaser!" Pouncival cried out joyously, bounding up to the tiger-striped queen and wrapping her in a bear hug. "Thank Heaviside, you're alive!"

His rough tackle jarred her leg and sent a shot of pain through her entire body, but Teaser didn't dare let go. Cetty stood there, much more restrained, but the same could not be said for Electra and Mungojerrie, who also joined in, practically throwing themselves at her.

It was Lecs who first noticed the bandage, "Oh, oh, my, your leg! Are you alright? What happened?"

"Injured in tha loine of duty," Rumpleteaser quipped. "Oi'll be alroight."

Mungo gently touched the bandage, his joy and relief quickly replaced by concern, "Let's getcha home, Tease."

He scooped her into his arms.

"Oi can walk jus' foine!" She protested, though there was too much mirth in her eyes to really make it a protest. "It's only two blocks!"

"An' Oi can carry ya jus' foine," Mungo retorted. When she gave him a skeptical look, he added sarcastically, "It's only two blocks."

She smiled and gave no further argument. The younger ones began to pepper her with questions, but Mungo quickly cut them off, ordering them not to bother her yet, when she was still so obviously injured and tired.

"We can talk about it all when you've rested," he reasoned, his grip tightening around her as he pulled her closer to his chest. Teaser knew he'd missed her, just as she had pined for him. The thought sent a little butterfly of gratitude fluttering through her stomach and her heart—Mungojerrie wasn't the most expressive or overly affectionate of cats, but this simple action had told her all that she needed to know. And like Mungo, she was never good with words, not unless it was a snappy comeback or a funny one-liner, so instead of speaking flowery phrases that she'd only mangle, she simply laid her head against his shoulder, snuggling into the crook of his neck. She felt him smile and she knew he understood.

By the time they reached the loft, Mistoffelees was awake, nursing his pounding headache with coffee and moving very, very slowly and very, very quietly. However, that delicious silence was immediately destroyed by their arrival, bursting through the door with happy chatter.

"Teaser?" Misto couldn't believe his eyes. His headache was practically forgotten at the surge of joy.

"She's back!" Pounce announced, although that was already quite obvious.

"It's a miracle, innit?" Mungo gently set her down, his paws ghosting over her injured leg again, as if trying to make sure he hadn't jarred it too badly by placing her back on the floor. And finally, all the energy that the other three had held back during the walk home came rushing out.

"What happened?" Cetty asked.

"How did you get out?" Pounce blurted at the same time.

"We thought you were a goner," Electra admitted.

"They did—I knew better," Misto gave her a wink.

"Oi…Oi got pinned under something and hurt my leg," she said simply. She didn't want to tell the whole story yet, but she knew they wouldn't let her rest until she did, despite Mungo's threats, "Alonzo found me, he hid me from the otha's and took care of me until Oi could make it outta there on my own."

"Alonzo saved you?" Pounce seemed incredulous. "Mister Always-Follow-the-Rules Alonzo?"

"He's a good cat," the tiger-striped queen countered. "He's the only reason Oi'm 'ere now."

"He is a good cat," Mungojerrie agreed solemnly. "We can't forget, there's still lots of good cats in tha Troibe. That's whoy we're foightin'—cuz those good cats don't deserve to be prisoners in their own 'omes."

Rumpleteaser offered a wan smile at the comment. She gave a slight wince as she took a tentative step, "Oi'm jus gonna go loie down for awhoile."

With that, the petite queen disengaged from Mungo's grasp, gently waving away his attempts to help, and quietly disappeared into the room that they shared. The door closed with the slightest _click _and everyone stared at each other in shock.

"Something's wrong," Electra spoke.

"She's toired," Mungo replied.

"Her eyes—they're different," Pounce commented softly. "They've lost their shine, that Teaser-twinkle."

"She's jus toired," Mungo repeated firmly, giving each cat a fierce look. "That's all."

The tom left the room without another word.

A beat passed.

Misto turned to Pounce with an amused look, "'That Teaser-twinkle'?"

Electra burst into laughter and Misto winced at the loud sound. Pounce fought back a grin, "What? Her eyes do twinkle."

"Ah, Pounce," Lecs smiled, patting his face affectionately. "I love you."

"Remember that the next time I beat you at cards," Pouncival joked.

"Shouldn't we tell Tugger?" Cetty spoke up, and her words instantly subdued the jovial mood.

"I will," Lecs said quietly, making her way to the door. She knocked, and of course received no response. She opened the door and looked around cautiously.

"Tugger?" She called out softly, stepping into the room. Cetty stepped in behind her.

"He's not here," Cetty commented. Lecs moved to the window, peering out into the street below. Tugger often disappeared for hours at a time, though none of them knew where or why.

Cetty gently traced her paw along the edge of the dresser than once belonged to Bombalurina. Studying her reflection, she cocked her head to one side and lowered her lashes in a classic pose that she'd seen the red queen strike many a time.

"You'll never be her, you know," Electra's voice sliced through the silence. Cetty turned to see her friend's face set in a dark scowl.

"I know," Cetty answered quietly, simply. She felt foolish, being caught preening in the mirror like some self-centered prima donna.

"Tugger's been through a lot," Lecs stated. Her voice was low, but there was an unmistakable threat behind it. "The only queen he ever truly loved was brutally murdered right in front of him. He's hurting. If you try anything—if you hurt him in any way—I will personally see to it that you suffer the consequences."

Cetty swallowed hard, the sound seeming so much louder in the deadly silent room. She nodded in understanding, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to look Lecs dead in the eye, "That's not why I came here, Electra. You know that's not why I came here."

Now it was Electra's turn to give a small nod.

"Just don't forget why you came," she brushed past Cetty without so much as a backward glance.

"Was that another threat?"

Electra stopped, but she didn't turn around. By the hitch in Lecs' shoulders, Cetty knew her arrow had hit its mark. It was petty, cruel even, and yet Cetty couldn't stop herself. With another deep breath, Electra simply walked out the door.

Cetty turned away, suddenly catching sight of herself in the mirror again. The cat who stared back at her had flushed red cheeks and eyes glistening with unshed tears. She stepped closer, trying to peer into her own soul through her eyes. But she couldn't recognize the queen staring back at her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Mungojerrie quietly entered the room, not wanting to disturb Rumpleteaser's rest. It had been several hours since she'd arrived home and shut herself in their room. He'd given her some space, knowing there was more to her survival story that the quick overview she'd given them earlier—he also knew that she needed time alone, time to process, time to find herself again. But he'd stayed away as long as he could, and now, he simply wanted to be near her again.

She was facing the wall, but he sensed that she wasn't actually sleeping. He gently curled up next to her, wrapping his tail protectively around her small frame and taking a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of her coat. It smelled different now, with hints of smoke and soot and other smells from the yard, but there was an undeniable part of it that was still her.

He felt her nestle closer, but she didn't speak. Mungo decided to break the silence, "Oi missed you."

"Oi missed you, too," she whispered back.

"Oi thought…Oi wasn't shore you'd eva' come back," he admitted, his throat tightening.

Rumpleteaser rolled over, her eyes meeting his as she took his face between her paws, "Oi troied to come back sooner. Oi troied—"

"Oi wanted to come after you," he interrupted, tears spilling down his cheeks.

"Oi woulda' killed you if you'd a dunnit," she replied, and they both shared a shaky, tearful laugh.

"Oi know."

"Oi know you know," her voiced was filled with adoration as she gently ran the tips of her paws over the tousled fur atop his head. "Oi know you know me betta' than any otha cat in tha' world."

"Oi thought you were roight behoind me," he admitted. "If Oi'd 'ave known, Oi would neva' have left—"

She silenced him with a kiss—a short, small, tender kiss—and offered him a tearful smile, "Oi know, my love, Oi know."

She kissed him again, deeper, more passionately, and this time, he returned it, pulling her closer. Then he tore his lips from hers and began to place light kisses over her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, her chin, before returning his mouth to hers. That was when she felt it—the thing she'd felt with Alonzo, the thing she'd never felt with Mungo before—appreciation. Appreciation tinged with reverence, gratitude. Teaser gave a small whimper; her body trembled as she realized that in this small moment, they'd reached something new in their relationship. Mungo pulled back, "Wot's wrong?"

"Nuffin," she whispered breathlessly.

"Then whoy are you croyin?"

"Oi….Oi'm jus' happy," she laughed, wiping away her tears. "Oi'm so happy to be 'ere, wif you. Oi'm…Oi'm home."

A smile spread across his face. He pulled her close again, kissing her forehead fiercely and resting his head atop hers, "Welcome 'ome, Tease."

With a happy sigh, she snuggled into his warm chest, her own chest filling with such tenderness that she felt like light was shooting from every pore of her being. She never really called any place home—she'd always bounced around, even after she fell in with Mungo—and she'd never had any problem with that. She never felt that she needed that in her life. But now she realized that perhaps home wasn't a place at all, but rather a feeling, a sense of warmth and safety inspired by someone, not someplace. The loft wasn't her home, nor was any other place she'd stayed before. Mungojerrie was her home. That was worth more than anything she could have had with Alonzo. She knew that now.

"Oi know Oi haven't always told ya this," he cleared his throat. "But Oi do love ya, Tease. You do know that, dontcha?"

"Oi do," she admitted softly. She looked up into those deep green eyes, which so oddly and perfectly matched her own, "And you know Oi love you, too, roight?"

He kissed her again, "Oi do."

There was a contented silence as they simply held each other. Finally, Mungojerrie spoke again, "Do you wanna talk about wot 'appened when you were in the yard?"

"Not yet," she replied gently. He didn't push any further. A silence followed. Teaser finally broached the question that had danced at the edge of her mind since her arrival.

"Where's Tugger?" Her voice was small, as if she feared the answer.

"He's still 'ere. Sort of." He sat up.

"Wot's that supposed to mean?"

"Eva' since we got back, he locked himself away from the rest of us. Wohn' come out, wohn' talk to any of us."

"Wot?" Teaser sat up. "And no one troied to make 'im come out?"

"We didn't want to upset him," Mungo replied, although he knew it was the wrong answer.

"He lost his best friend and his greatest love—of course he's upset!" Teaser was on her feet now, moving towards the door. "And no one should grieve alone. Eva'."

Mungo didn't go after her. She walked down the hall, to the dark door that was still closed. With a deep breath, Rumpleteaser slowly opened the door, peering around cautiously, "Tugger? Ya in here?"

"Teaser?" Tugger's voice was confused, faint.

The tiger-striped queen entered the room, quickly closing the door behind her. Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw Tugger standing near the window, his once-beautiful mane disheveled, his eyes red, his face haggard.

"Oh, Rum Tum," Teaser moved across the room. Tugger met her halfway and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her so tightly that she momentarily lost her breath.

"I thought we'd lost you, too," he sobbed, his shoulders shaking.

"Oi know." She spoke soothingly, rubbing his back with gentle paws. She pulled back, looking up into his dark eyes, "And from wot Oi 'eard from the otha's, Oi thought we'd lost you."

The maine coon bowed his head in shame. "I can't face them, Teaser. I'm the reason that Cassandra and Bombalurina aren't here anymore—Bombie always said she left the Tribe because of me, because she believed in me, and if I hadn't been so stupid—"

"You can't blame ya'self for this," she interrupted him. "We both know that no cat on Earth could make Bombsy do anyfing she didn't already wanna do. She knew the risks, and she thought they were worth takin'. We all did."

Tugger looked down at the floor. It was obvious that he wasn't ready to hear such things. Teaser understood, and she didn't press it any further. Grief and healing shifted, changing places in small stages. The fact that they were even speaking, much less speaking about Bombie, was a big step forward. No need to try to run before you could walk.

"We had finally become everything that I'd always wanted," he said softly, fresh tears tracking down his face. "After all those years of fighting and waiting and pretending we didn't care, we'd finally admitted the truth. And now it's all gone. I wasted too much time, and now I've lost her. I've lost her forever."

"You're not the only one who's lost," Teaser gently reminded him, her voice thick with her own tears. "Misto lost his mother, Oi've lost my sista, we've all lost a comrade. You're not alone, Tugger—so stop troiyin' to deal with this on your own."

She cupped his face with both her paws. "We are still 'ere. And we still need you. You're our leada'."

Tugger shook his head, pushing away from Teaser and turning back to the window, "I can't do it anymore, Tease. I couldn't ever be responsible for leading more cats to their deaths."

"Tugger, we all knew—"

"I know we all knew," his voice was sharp. He gave a heavy sigh, shaking his head. He softened his tone, "I know. But what I know doesn't change what I feel."

Teaser made a small noise of understanding, moving across the room to Tugger, her paws reaching out for him again. He didn't push her away, but he didn't return her embrace, either.

"Oi'm not askin' you to come out today, or even next week." Teaser spoke hesitantly, trying to gently break down her request. "But Oi am askin' you to come back to us. Mungo and Oi will lead until you're ready. But this 'as always been your crew, and you will always be our leada'. Dohn' abandon us."

The tom merely nodded, and Teaser knew that even though he wanted to argue, he knew better.

"I'm just not ready to face them, Tease."

"You dohn' hafta. Not today, at least." Teaser moved back to the door. She gave him one last look over her shoulder, "But you will one day, Tugger. And Oi promise ya, they'll forgive you."

"How do you know?" His expression was hopeful, but still tinged with fear.

She offered him a small smile, "Because they already 'ave. Because they neva' blamed you in tha first place."

With that, she left, closing the door softly behind her.

Mungojerrie was waiting in the hall. She didn't ask how much he'd heard; he didn't ask what was said. But the look on her face told her that Tugger wasn't the only issue that needed to be dealt with.

He motioned back to the main area, where the rest of the rebels were assembled, "Oi think ya need to come out 'ere and 'ave a talk wif the troops."

"Wot's going on, Mungo?"

He took a deep breath. "There's sumfin' else we 'ave ta told about. And Oi dohn' think ya gonna loike it."

* * *

><p>"Is she gone?"<p>

The sound of Tantomile's deep voice startled Alonzo. He whirled around, clutching his chest, "Geez, gimme a heart attack!"

"Is she gone?" The black and white queen repeated, completely unfazed by his antics.

"Yes," he answered quietly, looking around to make sure no one overheard their conversation.

"Good," she gave a curt nod. She took a moment to study him, "You seem to be taking it well."

"I'm not sure what you mean by that," he went back to stacking flattened cardboard boxes—a truck had dumped off a load of boxes and crates earlier that morning, and now he was sorting out which pieces could be used to rebuild dens.

"You seemed…_distraught_ over the idea of letting her go." Tanto's voice was gentle, tentative even.

Alonzo didn't respond. Tanto didn't have to be a mind-reader to know that he wanted her to go away. So she simply turned and left. Alonzo looked over his shoulder, watched her retreat with worried eyes. If Tantomile had wanted to turn him in, she would have already done so—she would have reported his actions while Teaser was still in the yard, while there was still tangible proof. Still, Alonzo realized that he didn't know the black and white queen well enough to predict her actions, and that made her a liability. When it came to secrets like this, the less cats who knew about it, the better.

* * *

><p>"Alright," Roary took a moment to survey the cats standing before him—the unsmiling Notekins O'Malley, the apprehensive Teathrice, the young Tumblebrutus, the bored Jellylorum. These were the cats chosen as the hunting party, the ones selected to go into the woods bordering the yard in search of food for the rest of the Tribe, since the fire had also decimated the population of other small creatures that lurked in the trash bins and scrap heaps which served as their main source of sustenance.<p>

Teathrice squinted as she cast a baleful glance up at the sky. Evening was approaching; once night fell, the woods would be alive with owls and hawks and foxes and other predators. She really didn't fancy the idea of being caught in the dark with such things.

Apparently Notekins shared her opinion, because he brusquely pushed past Roary with a gruff, "Let's get this over with."

Roary looked back at Teathrice, who simply gave a slight shake of her head as if to say, _You know what he's like. Leave him be._

Roary rolled his eyes in mock surrender, and Teathrice bit back a smile as she moved forward, following Notekins into the darkened woods.

This whole silent exchange was witnessed by Jellylorum, who felt a slight twinge of anger, even though she wasn't sure why she should be upset over the two cats having some inside joke. But she did know—inside jokes were private, things shared between two souls who were close, like friends or lovers, and the sight of this thing between them made Jellylorum realize that she did not have such a rapport with Roary Huffersnuff.

And why should she care? Why she should want to have something private, something just between her and this tom? She gave a quick shake of her head, as if trying to tumble those questions out of her mind.

She'd had those moments, those looks, those silent conversations with Gus, but that was years ago, before he began to slowly slip away one smile, one look of confusion, one loss of recognition at a time. She missed it. She could admit that. Of course she would miss that, of course she would wish to have some semblance of that intimacy back in her life. She just wasn't sure why she wanted it with Roary.

He called her nicknames, which she hated; he winked at everyone and joked about everything (even things he shouldn't); he laughed too loudly and was much too opinionated and pushy; he talked when he should listen and he said things that never should be said aloud. He was everything that annoyed her, every trait she despised in a cat. And yet, he'd somehow found a way through all of it, found a way to stir a certain small something in her. She didn't know what it was exactly, or how he'd done it—perhaps he'd simply pushed and shoved his way into her life, like he did everything else, finding a space in her mind and saying 'This looks nice, I think I'll stay here awhile.'

That mental image made her smile. It suited him.

"Everything alright?" Tumblebrutus' low voice snapped her back to reality. She realized that she'd been smiling to herself like some love-struck kit.

"Everything's fine," she cleared her throat, refocusing her attention on the others who were further ahead in the woods, peering around cautiously. She offered the young tom a reassuring smile.

He simply nodded, taking a moment to watch her as she moved ahead. He'd never seen her wear such a smile. He briefly wondered if she was going dotty, like her mate before her. He certainly hoped not. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head. Old age was such a pity.

* * *

><p>"Wot 'ave you done?" Teaser demanded. The horror was evident in her pale face. "'Ave you lost ya bloomin' moinds?!"<p>

"We had no choice!" Electra shot back. She gestured angrily to Tugger's still-closed door. "Our leader has been out of commission for weeks now; Munku's rats have been closing in. We had to do something."

"The rats?" Teaser blanched. The surprised expressions on the faces of the other cats told her that she wasn't the only one just now learning of this particular development.

Electra looked at Mungojerrie uneasily; it was obvious that she'd said more than she was supposed to. The tabby tom simply motioned for her to answer the question.

"We've…we've seen a rat hanging around here for the past few days," she admitted slowly. "But only one, and we've only seen it a few times. It may not even be the same rat each time."

"Either way, I doubt it's a coincidence," Mistoffelees spoke, his voice oddly icy. His eyes were locked onto Electra, and though he didn't say it, she knew what he was thinking. _You kept this from me. We're best friends, you said there'd be no secrets between us, and yet you kept this from me._

Electra bowed her head, "No. It's not a coincidence."

"Macavity has agreed to meet with us," Pouncival spoke quietly, trying to ease the tension in the room. He'd been just as shocked by the news of the rat as everyone else, but he also knew that there was no use in being upset. Their only option was to remain calm and to continue moving forward. "I think that even if he doesn't want to help us, he does want to avenge Bombie's death."

Teaser simply shook her head. Even after her death, Bobmalurina had found a way to drag up old dramas, to keep thing interesting. Still, Bombie's former alliance could prove useful—it might even save their lives.

She turned to Mungojerrie, who'd remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout this whole conversation. "We said we'd neva' go back."

"We dohn' have a choice," he said quietly. A sadness passed through the tom's eyes as Teaser's gaze fell to the floor. She took a deep breath and nodded in acknowledgment. The others realized there was something deeper being communicated here, but they weren't sure what it was, exactly.

She looked back up, "Let's do this, then."

* * *

><p>A shriek pierced the stillness. Teathrice's entire body tensed. A few yards away, she heard Tumblebrutus swear under his breath—she smiled at the thought that she wasn't the only one surprised by the sound.<p>

She felt the sudden shift in the space around her and instinctively ducked, but it was not quick enough—a flash of fire tore through her shoulders and she was thrown forward. The hawk's talons had grazed her, but she'd moved enough to keep it from grabbing her completely and whisking her away.

The searing pain spread through her back, her head pounding with blood and adrenaline and drowning out every other noise, and she felt a wave of nausea as her eyesight faded and shot back into startling clarity. Her mind was screaming for her to run, but she couldn't seem to move. She lurched forward again—she must be moving, because the world was shifting again, and she felt a jolt as her body was dropped back to the ground. She could hear things again, hear shouting and voices that seemed very far away, echoing as if they were coming from a long tunnel.

She saw Jellylorum's face floating above her, and she briefly wondered why the queen was looking at her like that, so scared and so unlike herself. Her mouth was moving, but no sound seemed to be coming out.

Someone was crying, whimpering and choking indecipherable words of pain. Jellylorum's paw reached forward; Teathrice felt the soothing strokes on her face.

"It's alright," Jellylorum was speaking louder now, her voice finally reaching Teathrice's brain, "You're safe now. Shh, shhh…"

Teathrice suddenly realized that the keening sound was coming from her own mouth. What was happening to her?

Roary was there; she didn't see him, but she felt him lift her, smelled his familiar scent.

"We'll get you home, Tea," he whispered, and finally, the pounding in her ears had subsided enough for her to hear it.

"What ha…ha…happened?" She heard her own voice, foreign and impossible to manage.

"A hawk," he answered grimly. "Luckily, Tumblebrutus heard you scream and was able to stop it from carrying you off."

"Is he—"

"He's fine. The rest of us are fine," he tried to keep her from asking too many questions. "Just close your eyes and breathe, Tea. We'll be home soon."

She nodded in acquiescence. Her whole body felt like fire and suddenly it was very hard to keep her eyes open.

Roary looked up at Jellylorum's ashen face.

"I don't know if I can do anything," she spoke in a low, hurried whisper. "I have some stuff back at the yard; I can bandage the wound, but if it's too deep or if it gets infected—"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Roary cut her off, shifting the grey queen's smaller frame against his so that he could carry her back to the yard. "Right now, we just need to get the hell out of these woods."

They turned to Notekins and Tumblebrutus, who were standing side by side, waiting for the next move.

"Gather whatever is left of the game and let's go," Roary ordered. Notekins gave a quick nod and began picking up the small field mice that had been caught before the attack. Tumblebrutus helped him, his paws still shaking from nerves and adrenaline.

The older tom placed his paw over Tumble's trembling ones, stilling them for a moment.

"You did good," he said simply, his eyes locking onto Tumblebrutus' and instilling the younger tom with a wave of calm. "It could've been much worse, but you stopped that from happening. We're all still here. Take a deep breath, let it go, and focus on staying alert and getting home. OK?"

Tumblebrutus nodded. "OK."

Notekins gave him a light pat on the shoulder before turning back to his task, scooping up as many mice as he could and falling into place behind Roary. Tumble gathered the remaining mice and followed.

His heart was still pounding and he kept his eyes glued to the trees above. He still couldn't believe what had happened—or that he had been the hero, the one to rescue Teathrice from a certain and excruciating death.

They made it back in record time. Roary took Teathrice to Jellylorum's den.

"Should we follow them?" Tumble asked uncertainly.

"Not unless you have some healing powers that we don't know about," Notekins replied dryly, tossing the field mice in a pile. "Stay here until Plato comes to divide the catch between the others. I've got to find Munkustrap and tell him what's happened."

The younger tom did as he was told, waiting for what seemed like an eternity until Plato arrived, eyes wide with surprise.

"Notekins told us what happened," Plato didn't waste time with pleasantries or small talk. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Tumble replied. "I just…I'd just like to go see how Teathrice is doing."

"Of course. Go," Plato waved him off. "I'll take care of this."

Tumblebrutus raced off to Jellylorum's den. Roary and Notekins were waiting outside the opening—he wasn't that surprised to see Roary, but seeing Notekins there was a bit of a shock.

"How bad is it?" He asked breathlessly.

"We don't know yet," Roary answered.

Jellylorum walked out, her face pale and drawn.

"Well?" Roary stepped forward.

"I've packed the wound and stopped the bleeding for now," Jellylorum let out a deep sigh, rubbing her forehead in irritation. "But it's deep. There's definite damage to the muscles in her left shoulder and she's gonna need stitches."

"Do you have everything you need?" Roary asked quietly.

"Yes, for now," Jellylorum gave a quick nod. She let out another shaky breath, "But if it gets infected, I won't be able to do anything. I can't—"

"Let's jump that wire when we come to it," Notekins interrupted. "What do you need us to do?"

Another shaky breath. The look in the queen's eyes told them that it wasn't something they would want to do.

"I don't' have any anesthesia. I need someone to hold her down while I stitch the wound."

Tumblebrutus felt a tremor in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't sure that he could do it.

Notekins simply nodded and walked into Jellylorum's den without further ado, followed by the others.

Teathrice was lying on her side, not moving, barely breathing as the pain in her body overwhelmed her mind. Notekins moved beside her, leaning forward so that she could see his face without having to move her head.

"You need stitches, Tea," he spoke softly, his eyes locking onto hers and making sure that she was coherent enough to understand his words.

"I know," she whispered.

"We don't have anything to numb the pain."

"I know." A single tear slipped down her cheek.

Notekins stepped back, motioned for Roary to take his place. Jellylorum moved to the other side, gently pulling back the gauze and preparing her needle and thread. Roary took both of Teathrice's fore paws in his own, his eyes never leaving hers. Notekins leaned forward, placing his shoulder against her back legs, knowing her first instinct would be to kick out.

Tumblebrutus stood to the side, waiting for an order. Jellylorum brought the needle down for the first stitch. Tumble knew he'd never forget those screams as long as he lived.

* * *

><p>Mistoffelees sat quietly, although inside his heart was hammering like crazy, his ears buzzed with the sound of his own blood pumping double-time and he felt sick. This was the moment he'd anticipated with both fear and hope. His mother had never spoken ill of Macavity—if she ever spoke of him at all, it was with sadness, as if on some level, she had regretted losing what they'd shared.<p>

But other cats had painted a wildly different picture—a savage, blood thirsty cat who knew no mercy, and deserved none in return. Whichever version was true, Macavity was still his father. And Misto was finally going to meet him.

Electra was beside him, glancing around the hangar, watching the shadows. She shifted a little closer, her voice low, "Are you alright?"

He nodded, and when she turned to look at him, he saw the concern in her eyes. She was the only one who knew that Macavity was his father; she was the only one who understood how life-changing this meeting could be for him. He reached over and gave her paw a grateful squeeze. She smiled in understanding. Despite his anger at her earlier that day, she still truly was his best friend, and right now, he needed a best friend more than anything.

There was a flutter of movement atop a large stack of crates. The rebels all turned instinctively towards the sound. Three angular faces appeared, three sets of large ears pricked forward in curiosity.

"Sirikitten," Teaser whispered. She turned to the other rebels, "They're the troibe of Soiamese who are responsible for the attack on Growltoiger."

The younger cats looked up at the three Siamese with awe. There was another movement on the opposite side of the room, and they turned to see another group of cats, all Persians. The Lady Griddlebone was at their point, a smug smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Ah, Pounsi-vahl," She stepped forward, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the young tom. She gave a slight nod of approval towards the others, "You kept your word."

"Ello, Grid," Mungojerrie offered a friendly smile, which she returned with a warm grin of her own, extending her paw to him. He placed a gentle kiss on it, holding it a few seconds longer than necessary.

"Mungojerrie," she purred. "Always such a charmer."

She turned her gaze to the other tabby, "Rumpleteaser. Such a pleasure to see you."

"LG, you're looking well," Teaser wasn't quite as warm as Mungojerrie.

"Wish I could say the same," the Persian queen noticed the bandage on Rumpleteaser's leg. "Looks like you've seen some action."

"Anotha story for anotha toime," Teaser replied easily.

Griddlebone simply smiled in understanding. She stepped back, glancing over her shoulder, "Ah, here is our fearless leader."

From the shadows came another cat with a ragged coat and an unsmiling face. He was lean, but they could see the ripple of muscles beneath his fur with every step he took. Behind him walked several other cats, large and equally foreboding. Even if Griddlebone hadn't referred to this tom as the leader, the younger rebels would have recognized him—Macavity was a legend to them, and though it had been a long time since they'd seen him, they could never forget his face.

Rumpleteaser and Mungojerrie immediately stepped forward, shielding Mistoffelees from direct view—Misto didn't know, but Bombalurina had told Teaser long ago whom Misto's father was, and before they arrived at the meet, Teaser had informed Mungojerrie. They had both decided that they would keep Misto as inconspicuous as possible until they knew for sure what they were dealing with.

However, it was no use.

The ginger tom stopped, as if struck. He stared at Misto like a ghost. Griddlebone shifted uneasily, uncertain as to what caused her boss' sudden change in manner. The other cats in the hangar sensed this change as well and it seemed as if all of the air was immediately sucked out of the room as every cat held their breath, their eyes trained on the gingertom as they awaited his next move, his next clue as to what just happened.

Electra moved closer to Mistoffelees, pushing her shoulder slightly in front of him, adding to the shield created by Mungo and Teaser. Pouncival and Etcetera took the whole thing in with wide eyes, unsure of what to do.

Macavity's mouth twitched, quivered, then finally words came.

"Macsimius." It was not a question. Despite the years, Macavity still knew his son's face. Misto saw the glimmer of a tear in the old tom's eye.

"I'm called Mistoffelees now," he stepped forward timidly, unsure of how to approach his father. Electra moved back, not meeting Pouncival's questioning gaze. She knew that by now, he knew that she was aware of Mistoffelees' parentage the whole time, and she knew he wouldn't be happy about being left in the dark. That was just another secret kept from another friend, another thing that she would have to atone for without ever really being sorry for keeping the secret.

The surprise was evident on Macavity's face, "_You_ are the Magical Mr. Mistoffelees?"

Misto did not reply. His throat was dry with fear and his tongue had turned to lead. To his surprise, Macavity gave a low chuckle of disbelief.

"I should have known my son would be a conjuror," he shook his head. There was a softness in his eyes, "You get that from me, you know."

"I know." Misto said quietly. Macavity understood the meaning behind the words—he knew because he'd known who his father was. So Red had told him the truth.

"How long have you known?" He asked.

"Awhile," Misto admitted. "I figured it out not long after Boms told me that she was my mother."

"Boms," the ginger tom gave a strange smile. "To me, she was always just Red."

At this point, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteaser had realized that Misto was not in any danger and had slowly shifted away, allowing Macavity and his son to walk towards each other. Griddlebone was watching the young black and white tom with an expression of reverence. Etcetera's eyes were the size of saucers.

Suddenly, Macavity turned back to his compatriots, "Ladies and gentletoms, may I introduce my son, Macsimius, back from the dead."

* * *

><p><em><strong>*AN: Just for clarification-in the last section, it mentions that Electra is "the only one" who knows Macavity is Misto's father. This is, of course, a "truth" from Misto's point of view. He doesn't realize that several cats actually are aware of this fact (Mungo and Teaser, obviously, and Tugger and Demeter as well). ***_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

_***A/N: The Persians and Siamese mentioned in this chapter are all characters from another work of mine "Persian Love Song". All Persian/Siamese/Russian names are traditionally appropriate names.***_

* * *

><p>Macavity didn't ask why Bombalurina had kept Mistoffelees' existence a secret from him; part of him understood. It was the loss of Misto and his sisters that had been the beginning of the end for the Napoleon of Crime and his Josephine—he didn't begrudge her for wanting to keep her past with him separate from a peaceful future with their long-lost son. If he were totally honest with himself, he could admit that he would have done the exact same thing if their roles had been reversed.<p>

And though there was an obvious light in his eyes, he didn't weep with joy at finding the son that he'd thought long dead. Now was not the time for such emotions. Now was the time for business, for planning and war and revenge.

He looked at his former lieutenants, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteaser. Bast, his enterprise had taken a blow when he lost them. But that was his own fault—he'd gone too far in his quest to reclaim Red, had been too cruel to Demeter, and it was that cruelty and that blinding anger that had pushed Mungojerrie to the other side, to which Rumpleteaser followed him, naturally. Peas in a pod, those two.

Aside from Macsimius, he didn't recognize the other young faces, but he could tell by their features that they were all Jellicles by birth.

"Oi suppose intra'ductions are in order for the rest of us," Rumpleteaser stepped forward again, assuming an air of all-business. She motioned to each cat as she said their name, "Pouncival, Electra, Etcetera, and of course, Mistoffelees."

She glanced around at the other cats in the hanger with a dry smile, "An' in case you could eva' forget, Oi'm Rumpleteaser, and this 'ere's Mungojerrie."

There were a couple of low chuckles. Apparently these two characters were in no danger of ever being forgotten.

Macavity nodded. He smiled at the younger rebels, "I can tell by the frightened looks on your faces that I need no introduction."

He turned, motioning grandly to the group of cats behind him, "Meet the Executive Committee of Mayhem Incorporated."

"I believe you all know Griddlebone," Macavity waved his hand in the general direction of the large crème Persian, who gave a cool nod of acknowledgement.

"Behind me," Macavity turned back to the cats who had walked in with him. "Are our Russian compatriots."

A large fawn-colored tom wore a grim expression, flanked by two very threatening-looking cats.

Macavity motioned to the left side of the hangar, to the five other Persians in the corner, "And these are a few members of Grid's old tribe: meet Narges, Bijan, Arash, Kismet, and Madhis."

Narges, a dark queen with Himalayan markings, studied the newcomers with her brilliant golden eyes. Bijan and Arash stood side by side, silently staring down Pounce and Misto. Kismet seemed completely disinterested; Madhis wore a slight smile of amusement

"Last but not least," Macavity gave a warm smile. "Our information and intelligence team—Kiet, Kovit, and Pricha."

The Napoleon of Crime motioned to the three Siamese toms, who all gave sharp smiles from their posts atop the crates.

"These cats are the ones who personally planned the attack on Growltiger," Macavity informed the rebels.

Teaser gave a curt nod, "We know tha Sirikitten, Macavity. We did work for ya, once uponna' toime."

"Ah, yes," Macavity gave a tight smile. "Thank you for reminding me."

"'Ow are all these cats gonna 'elp us?" Teaser didn't waste time.

"They'll do whatever you need," Macavity answered simply.

"Oi dohn' believe you," Teaser said curtly. "There's go'a be a catch. There always is. So wot is it, Mac?"

An odd look passed through the gingertom's eyes, but he quickly assumed his usual smile—one that was meant to be cordial but always came across as unnerving. He motioned to the office over the main hangar, "That particular topic of business needs to be discussed in private, with the tactical leaders only."

Rumpleteaser gave a curt nod, turning back to Electra and whispering in her ear, "Me an' Mungo will go up with Mac. Dohn' split up and whateva' you do, dohn' let anyone get between you and the exit."

Electra nodded, her face drawn and solemn. Mungo and Teaser stepped forward, but Macavity motioned to Misto as well, "Bring him along, too."

"He's just a soldier," Teaser replied. "And he's also our insurance policy. He stays 'ere."

Macavity gave a light chuckle, but he didn't argue. He simply turned and motioned for Griddlebone to follow with a small flick of his tail. The large fawn-colored Russian and the three Siamese also joined them in the office, leaving the five Persians and the two Russian sidekicks.

Misto, Lecs, Cetty, and Pounce simply stared at the remaining cats, who simply stared back.

Pouncival cleared his throat, looking around and pasting on a cheerful smile, "So, anyone know any good jokes?"

* * *

><p>Tumblebrutus left the den, collapsing in the cool night air. Jellylorum had finally finished sewing up Teathrice's wound; afterwards the grey queen had drifted into an uneasy sleep. Tumble envied her—he didn't think he'd ever sleep again.<p>

Notekins appeared beside him, his yellow eyes the only thing visible in the black, moonless night.

"You did good," he said softly.

Tumble gave a slight nod. He knew it was a compliment to receive such a verdict from an old warrior like Notekins O'Malley, one of the great heroes of the Pollicle War.

"I don't think I'll ever forget that," Tumble motioned back to the den.

"You won't," Notekins admitted. "And the memory won't lessen with time, I'm sad to say."

"I was afraid that would be the case."

The black tom took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Tumblebrutus thought of all the things this cat had seen—the things more terrifying, more horrific than what he'd witnessed today—and he suddenly had to ask, "How do you get past it? Past seeing things like that?"

There was another deep breath, a moment of thoughtfulness. "You just do, I guess. You do because you have to, because there isn't any other option. You remind yourself of the good that's left, you tell yourself things could have been worse, you tell yourself whatever you got to in order to make it through. And eventually, you realize your life's moving right along again and so you keep moving. You just keep moving."

"It could have been worse," Tumble said quietly, as if trying the thought out for the first time.

Notekins nodded solemnly, "Yes, it could've. Teathrice is very lucky to be alive. We all are."

There was another moment of silence. Roary and Jellylorum exited the den, their faces drawn and tired.

"How is she?" Tumble asked.

"I'm not sure yet," Jellylorum answered truthfully. "I'll have to monitor her for the next few hours, to make sure she doesn't get a fever—if she does, then the wound's infected and we'll have to get her to the humans as soon as possible."

"Let me know if that happens," Notekins said softly. "I'll help you get her there."

"If Munkustrap allows us to go," Jellylorum added, and there was no mistaking the sourness in her tone.

"Of course he will," Roary replied. "Tea's an Elder; she's one of the Tribe's greatest assets. He can't just let her suffer."

"He doesn't like us leaving the yard for any reason," Jellylorum gave a heavy sigh. "He'll put up a fight about it for sure."

"Well, then it's a good thing we're the Tribe's best warriors," Notekins offered a crooked smile.

Tumblebrutus looked at the three older cats and realized that they were the last survivors from the Pollicle War, the only ones left who had been with Deuteronomy when he was a bright, young leader, the last members of the Jellicle's Golden Age. He wondered how it must feel, to look back and see how far things had fallen, to know they had witnessed the greatest age, the age now past. Perhaps he was part of another kind of survivor—perhaps he would be one of the last survivors of the Jellicle Tribe, the remnants of a glorious civilization that collapsed into ruin, the end of a long line of warriors and thinkers and poets and lovers. It was a sad thought, and yet, he could not imagine the Tribe continuing much longer. Not like this.

"That was some fancy needlework, Jells," Roary's voice was soft now, almost tender in its playfulness.

"Haven't had to stitch up a cat like that since the wars," she admitted with a sigh, shaking her head slightly. "I wasn't sure I could still do it."

Tumble listened to these little bits of history, quickly forming the story behind it—ever since he was a kit, he'd known Jellylorum as the Tribe's healer, the unofficial doctor. Of course, it made sense that her expertise had been gained during the Pollicle War, during the time when cats were being attacked so frequently by bands of ferocious mutts that there often wasn't enough time to get them human help. He knew the scar on Notekins' face was a souvenir of the war as well. He noticed a scar above Roary's eye, a newer one, and he knew that it was from the last battle—a new scar for a new war.

So that's what their history had become. Scars and wars.

There was a sound from inside the den, and Jellylorum went back inside. Roary turned to the two other toms with a sad smile, "I think we'll need to watch Tea in shifts. I'm going to take a quick nap and then I'll be back to relieve Jells."

Notekins gave a nod of agreement, "I'll take the shift after yours. Just come wake me when it's time."

He turned to Tumblebrutus, "And I'll do the same for you."

The younger tom nodded, feeling a slight tinge of awe at being included in this—after all, the others were old comrades in arms, a well-oiled machine that ran on its own, a band with history and experience together. And here they were, including this clumsy young tom as if he were a soldier of their caliber, as if he were a buddy who'd served alongside them for years. It was both wonderful and overwhelming.

Notekins began to walk back through the maze of dens, and Tumble followed him. He wasn't sure how he'd be able to fall asleep, but he told himself he would—he would because he had to. The others needed him to be alert and awake enough to keep watch over Teathrice whenever it was his turn, and he would not let them down. So he would learn to do as Notekins said—he would learn to keep moving. There was no other option.

* * *

><p>"'Ow long 'as Munkustrap 'ad the rats workin' for 'im?" Rumpleteaser asked, setting her paws down on the table with an authoritative air.<p>

"He bribed them out from under me years ago," Macavity said bitterly. Then he gave a crooked smile, "But that's what I get for trusting rats. Since then, I've learned my lesson."

Mungojerrie's green eyes flicked over to the fawn-colored tom, who had yet to speak, "So Oi see."

"But we come with a higher price," spoke Pricha, the head of the Sirikitten intelligence team. His angular face was set in a somber expression. "We're not quite so expendable as those vermin, which means if we are going to commit to helping your merry band of felines, we need to know it's a worthy investment."

"Worthy?" Rumpleteaser drew out the word, raising to her full height, which wasn't that tall but her manner made her seem twice her normal size. She lowered a critical gaze at Pricha. Her voice was weighted, slow, each word settling into the air with finality, "And did we ask you if it was a _worthy investment_ when you asked for 'elp bringing down Growltoiger?"

Pricha looked away in irritation; he knew Teaser had a point—and that she'd also just effectively won the argument before it even began.

"We aren't askin' for anyfing more than wot we gave you durin' the Growltoiger attack," Mungojerrie adopted a softer tone, smoothing over the ruffled feathers left by Teaser's words. "We aren't askin' for you to foight wif us. We jus' need tactical support, we need someone keepin' an eye out and lettin' us know when Munkustrap's on the move."

"Eventually, we'll need 'elp takin' him down," Teaser added, her green eyes meeting Mungojerrie's. "That'll call for a distraction of some sort."

"But none of ya will be in the direct action," Mungojerrie reiterated.

Macavity sat back, smiling as he watched his two former lieutenants. They worked like a well-oiled machine, falling into their respective roles of good cat, bad cat, using their push-and-pull to maneuver the other cats into their terms. Bast, he wished he still had them on his team. They were a sight to behold.

Griddlebone shifted closer to him, and the mischievous gleam in her eye told him that she was aware of Mungo and Teaser's game as well. They shared a secret smile.

Macavity turned back to the Russian tom, "Well, Ruslan, what do you think?"

"Is good thing." The tom spoke for the first time. He gave a firm nod to the identical tabbies, silently giving them his approval.

"Pricha?" Griddlebone asked softly.

The Siamese stepped back, taking a few seconds to confer with his two comrades. He turned back with a slight nod, "We're in."

Teaser and Mungo exchanged looks of relief. Then they returned their focus to the Hidden Paw, their faces bright and expectant.

"Well, it looks like you've got yourself a support team." He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest, "So, when do we start?"

* * *

><p>"Rummy," Electra placed another set of cards on the floor. Bijan gave an irritated huff as the rest of the cats began to count their cards.<p>

"Are we up for another round?" Pouncival glanced around the circle of cats, smiling as they all nodded in confirmation. As their leaders continued their meeting in the main office, the wait had become boring. So he'd quickly found the deck of cards that Griddlebone had played with when they first met two days ago (luckily she apparently just left them wherever she felt like it) and started up a round of Rummy. There were more than the usual number of players, so they had to adjust the number of cards each player received, but it helped ease the tension and everyone seemed to be getting along well.

It was Narges' turn to deal, and she shuffled the cards quickly.

"You're pretty good at this," Pounce motioned to her paws, which were expertly dealing the cards.

"When you work with Macavity, you learn such things," she gave a slight shrug.

"And how long have you worked with him?" Misto asked.

Narges looked over at Arash, who did some mental math, "Almost five years now. But Manoush has worked for him longer than that."

"Manoush?"

"The Lady Griddlebone," Narges supplied, dealing another round of cards. "She took a Jellicle name in order to seduce Growltiger. And after that was over, she simply never went back to her old name."

"She will always be Manoush to me," Arash said softly.

"She hasn't been Manoush for a long time now," Narges replied, but there was a softness, a sadness in her voice. The Jellicle rebels sensed that there was a deeper conversation occurring between Narges and Arash, something they couldn't understand, something that dated back far longer than this evening's discussion.

Cetty tried to change the conversation, "So, what exactly do you do as part of Macavity's…um…corporation?"

Her uncertainty over phrasing earned her a light laugh from Madhis, who was seated next to her. It was the first noise the red-pointed Persian had made all evening, and Cetty was a little surprised by it.

"We are simply muscle," replied Anatoliy, one of the Russian toms. "Macavity may be a master conjurer but he cannot be in two places at once. So we go where he cannot—we supervise the port activity, we make sure the deliveries occur on-time and that no one tries to cheat him on wages and shipping."

"And what exactly does Macavity ship?" Cetty asked.

The Persians and Russians simply exchanged knowing smiles as they began sorting through their hands of cards.

"A question for another time," Anatoliy offered with a wink. "Sometimes it is best not to know everything."

"The Russians run day-to-day operations at the docks and at the nightclubs," Arash set down another group of cards. "The Siamese are responsible for intel and any tactical operations, although those are few and far between these days. And their ships carry Macavity's cargo. The Persians provide financial backing, and we manage the overseas contacts."

"And we provide the occasional alibi, whenever he does get pinched," Bijan smiled.

"That must be interesting," Pouncival traded one card for another. He nudged Electra to signal that it was her turn.

"It is part of our duty," Madhis spoke. Her voice was low, but it held weight—she had the kind of voice that could be heard across a crowded room, because when she spoke, cats stopped and listened. She never looked up from her cards. "Macavity saved our tribe from the cruelty of Growltiger; we are honor-bound to repay his kindness."

These words put a somber note into the moment, and the other cats turned to look up at the main office, all of their thoughts on one thing—would honor and duty form a new pact tonight, one that would only end with the death of the Jellicle Leader?

Misto's mind kept replaying Madhis' words. Kindess. She'd referred to his father as a cat who was kind—it was the first time that someone besides Bombalurina had spoken of Macavity as anything more than a villain, a petty thief with a violent temper. Perhaps Macavity wasn't the monster of Jellicle myth. Perhaps he was the opposite. The Persians and the Siamese painted him as their savior, a valuable help in freeing their tribes from fear and death.

That was what the rebels were doing now, wasn't it? They were going to free the Jellicles from the oppressive rule of Munkustrap. Sadly, it came at the same price as that of Growltiger's defeat—Munkustrap would have to die, because he certainly wouldn't renounce his title and his throne while there was still a breath in his body.

There was a time when Mistoffelees would have shuddered at the thought, when he would have argued that there must be another way. But that was before he'd watched his mother flailing helplessly on the ground, a huge gaping wound in her chest left by Munkustrap's own paw. Now he had no problem with knowing that the Jellicle Leader had to die. Part of him even hoped that he could be the one to take Munku's life, to somehow settle the score. Like Madhis and the other Persians, he felt honor-bound to extract his vengeance on Munkustrap, to make him pay for taking the lives of Cassandra and his mother.

Another part of him still hesitated—hesitated because there would be cats who mourned the loss of Munkustrap, cats whom he cared very much about, Demeter and Jemima and the younger kits. He didn't know if he could handle being responsible for creating a widow and taking a father from young kits. Misto remembered when Jemima was still very small, how she adored her father, looking up to him, idolizing him, dreaming of the day when she could find another tom just like him, because he was perfect and wonderful and her hero.

He wondered if Jemima still felt that way about her father. He wondered if she knew what Munkustrap had done—if she knew all of it, if she understood, if she forgave him, if she hated him forever. He wondered if he'd ever know any of these things, if he'd ever have the chance to know. One thing he had painfully, vividly learned was that nothing was certain in life. Not anymore.

Electra must have sensed his dark musings, for she quietly moved her tail, hooking his with hers as if to remind him that she was there beside him. He looked up and offered a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

The door to the office opened, and the leaders emerged. Everyone lowered their cards and waited.

"We have decided to aid the Jellicles," Macavity announced with little ceremony. He always preferred cutting to the chase. "The Sirikitten will keep an eye on Munkustrap for the time being, and we will begin preparing tactical options soon."

Madhis and the other Persians simply nodded. The two Russians moved to fall back into formation behind their leader. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteaser went to their rebels, Teaser giving a small nod of approval to Electra, who, despite the card game, had made sure that they were still within clear shot of the exit and facing the others.

There was a moment of paw-shaking and congratulatory pats on the back all around, and then Macavity pulled Misto aside.

"I…I'm not sure what to call you," he admitted sheepishly. "You don't go by Macsimius anymore, so—"

"Misto," the younger tom supplied. He offered a small smile, "My friends call me Misto."

Mac nodded, giving a small relieved smile of his own. "Misto. Good."

There was an awkward silence as neither knew what to say.

"Well, I've got to go," Misto motioned to the rest of his crew, who were beginning to leave.

"Yes, of course," Mac said hurriedly, suddenly realizing how old and foolish he must seem to this kit who probably didn't remember him at all.

"I'd like to talk sometime," Misto added. "About Boms. About us and what happened. About anything, I suppose."

"I'd like that, too," Macavity's face blossomed into a smile again.

"I could come by…I could see where you work." There was a hopeful, kittenish note in the young tom's voice, and for a second, the Hidden Paw saw the kit he used to be.

Macavity nodded. "Tomorrow I'll be handling some business here at the docks."

"I have conditioning in the morning, but I could be here by afternoon," Misto suggested. His father nodded again, smiled again, and gently patted his shoulder.

"Tomorrow afternoon it is." Macavity motioned to the others. "You'd best get going."

Misto offered one last smile as he scampered off, joining the other rebels. Macavity watched him go, a small glimmer of pride in his heart.

"Why did Bombahl-urina not tell you about him?" Griddlebone was suddenly at his side, her eyes also locked on the black and white tom's retreating form.

"Because I'm not the cat I used to be," he answered quietly. "Not the cat I was when Red and I had the kits."

"Is that why you have decided to help them?" She turned her focus to his face, trying to read beneath the weather-beaten lines. "Because of some need to prove yourself?"

"I am helping them because I'm not the cat I used to be—not the one who feels the need to exact revenge on my brother for casting me out," Macavity turned away. He gave a heavy sigh. "I'm old, Grid. My anger is gone, and all that's left is a tiredness settling into my bones. I'm tired of war and anger and greed and hatred."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"Because this is going to bring about something better." His voice was soft, hopeful. "This is my swan song, Grid. I'm going to leave the world just a little brighter and better than when I found it. This is going to be my gift—my gift to my son, to all the sons that come after him. I'm going to take out a tyrant today to ensure peace tomorrow."

"You are old," Griddlebone's voice held a hint of amusement. "And old age has made you soft in the head. I never heard you wax so poetic over such things. When did you become a philosopher?"

She was teasing him, he knew, and he simply shook his head with a wry smile.

"You know what they say, Grid. Having a kit changes everything."

She laughed at him, gently bumping her shoulder into his in a gesture of camaraderie. She knew that his son's sudden appearance wasn't the only reason for these thoughts. He'd taken the news of Bombalurina's death very hard, even harder than she'd expected. She hadn't realized how much he still cared for the red queen. Macavity was quickly becoming the last of his generation—his elder brother, Deuteronomy, was dead, the only queen who was truly his mate was dead, and now his son was old enough to be a foot soldier in a revolution. The Napoleon of Crime was beginning to feel his age, though he was far from being too old to run this city or the crime ring he'd created. Still, it was the first sign along a dark path to deterioration. She simply hoped that she'd be able to spot the next warning signs, so that she could put Macavity out of his misery before he became too weak and made too many mistakes. It sounded cold and heartless, but in all honesty, she would do such a thing because she cared for him—Macavity would never want to spend his last days as a bumbling, tottering old cat. He would want to go out in his prime, in a blaze of glory, so that he could be remembered by his friends and his enemies alike as a great tom. She would give him that. It was part of their agreement, part of the unspoken pact between them.

She just hoped that she wouldn't be called upon to enact that clause too soon. If he was slipping away, she needed time to pull back and say goodbye. She would begin now, slowly removing herself from him, slowly reclaiming the parts of her heart that she'd quietly given to him, silently distancing herself from the memories and gentle moments, the long talks and the practical jokes, the little things that had built themselves into a friendship. Then it wouldn't be so painful when the final goodbye came. At least that was what she told herself. She only hoped it would be true.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Teathrice's sleep was filled with fevered dreams of screeches and the sensation of fire on her skin. As she drifted back into consciousness, she heard a soothing voice, felt a gentle caress on her face. She slowly opened her eyes to see Tantomile's face looming in front of her.

"It's alright, you're safe now," the black and white queen whispered, her paw still on Teathrice's cheek. Teathrice tried to sit up, but she stopped her, "No, no, you shouldn't try to move yet. Just lie still."

The grey queen did as she was told, sinking back down into the pillow.

"Where am I?" Her voice was raspy, harsh, not her own.

Tanto offered her some water. "You're in Jellylorum's den. They brought you here last night to stitch up the wound."

Tea grimaced as her memories of last night suddenly returned to her brain. She didn't try to move her head to look around the room, "Where are the others?"

"Notekins and Roary are sleeping—they took turns watching over you last night. Jellylorum had to go check on Aleyn; she's not feeling well again. Tumblebrutus is here with me."

The young tom's face appeared beside Tantomile's with a hopeful smile, "Glad you're awake, Teathrice."

"Thank you," she said quietly, and he understood that those simple words covered so many things. Tantomile offered her more water, which Teathrice drank gratefully. With a heavy sigh, she closed her eyes. Tanto took the grey queen's paw between her own and softly hummed a soothing tune, lulling Teathrice back into a drowsy state.

Once the grey queen slipped back into sleep, Tantomile turned to Tumblebrutus, "She seems better, doesn't she?"

He nodded, not wanting to crush the hopeful note in Tanto's voice. He didn't tell her that Teathrice had woken three times during his watch and asked the exact same questions each time. Notekins had warned him that she would do that—in response to the pain, her body was shutting down her short-term memory.

The black and white queen gave a light sigh, shaking her head sadly, "She's still in so much pain."

"Can't you use your powers to take the it away?" Tumble asked quietly. She turned to him with an amused smile.

"I'm afraid you overestimate my abilities. I can see the future—nothing more, nothing less." She gently ran her paw over Teathrice's forehead. "If I could, I would help her. But I'm useless, I'm afraid."

Tumblebrutus heard the undertone in her last words—useless, as usual, a freak and an outcast in her own tribe, with powers that weren't of any useful purpose, powers that didn't help cats in the way that they needed to be helped.

"You're not useless," he kept his voice low, not wanting to disturb Teathrice. "You're here with her now. She hasn't rested this peacefully all night—she knows you're here, you make her feel safe. It may not be the way you want to help her, but it's still helping in some way."

Tanto didn't respond. She merely made a small gesture—Tumble wasn't sure if it was a nod or a shrug. He sensed their conversation was over. Obviously, she still didn't fully agree with him, but she wasn't going to debate the topic any further. He respected her silent wish and walked out of the den and into the mid-day sunlight.

It was like walking into a different world. In contrast to the quiet darkness of Jellylorum's den, the Junkyard was a hive of activity as cats worked in different sections of the yard or stretched out atop various items, soaking up the sun, moving around, yelling, laughing, chatting with one another.

In some ways, the yard looked like it always had. In some ways, it didn't. Tumblebrutus felt for the first time as if he didn't belong there—as if he were some foreign visitor that had mysteriously found himself in this strange new land filled with faces that should be familiar. He felt no sense of connection, no sense of community, and yet, he found that he didn't mind the disconnection. It was as if someone had simply flipped a switch inside of him, and all the things that used to have meaning suddenly didn't.

He told himself that he was merely tired, and the odd sensation was from lack of sleep. Part of him thought that as soon as he got a good night's sleep, he'd feel right as rain, falling back into the perfectly carved niche in Jellicle life that he'd created over the years without the slightest of hitches. But another part of him hoped he didn't.

Something was changing inside of Tumblebrutus. He wasn't sure what or how, but he knew that he would welcome the change.

* * *

><p>"We have to take her to the humans. Now." Jellylorum's voice was hard, and darker than Munkustrap had ever heard. Still, it did not inspire fear in the Jellicle Leader.<p>

"You're overreacting," he said quietly, turning away. She moved again, stood in front of him, barring his path.

"Aleyn isn't getting better; she's getting worse." The worry in her eyes was evident. She reached for him, her voice filled with pleading, "I can't cure her, Munkustrap. She's got pneumonia, or something else equally deadly. This isn't going to go away."

"She's a strong kit," he pulled away. "She'll recover. It's just her allergies—the smoke and the soot are bothering her, nothing more."

"And since when did the Great Rumpus Cat endow you with medical knowledge and healing abilities?" Jellylorum asked sarcastically. "I'm the healer here, Munkustrap. I know what I'm talking about. We have to take her to the humans."

The silver tom looked into those eyes, those eyes that were hard as steel but tinged with fear and worry and the kind of love that only a grandmother could have, and he knew that even if he refused her, she would defy him and take Aleyn to the humans as soon as his back was turned.

"Fine." He gave a heavy sigh. He turned back to the den, where he knew Aleyn was curled up, looking smaller and weaker than ever, and his father-heart felt a pang at the thought that she could be fully recovered and racing around with her litter mates right now if he hadn't been so stubborn.

"Do whatever it takes to get her better, Jellylorum," he said quietly. "If that means taking her to the humans, then do it."

The calico queen nodded. Then she reached over and gently patted his shoulder. She'd won; she wouldn't gloat. They both wanted the same thing, they just had different opinions on how to go about it.

"I'll take Demeter and Roary Huffersnuff. We'll leave as soon as I can get everything settled." Jellylorum didn't know why she'd said she'd take Roary—he had no connection to the kit and his presence wouldn't have any bearing on the success of the venture. It had just slipped out. And for some reason, it seemed to fit.

Munkustrap simply nodded, turning away again. The calico queen went back into the den, where Demeter was holding Aleyn, whose pale face and shallow breaths sent another stab of fear through Jellylorum's stomach. Each breath was becoming a struggle for the poor kit, and that never was a good sign.

"We're taking her to the humans," she announced, and Demeter breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm just going to get Roary and then we're leaving."

Demeter nodded, grabbing Aleyn by the scruff of her neck, although she was almost too old to be carried around like a little kit anymore. Jellylorum dashed off and quickly found Roary Huffersnuff, and the four cats left the yard, making their way into the streets of London.

Eight streets down was the home of human who'd always been kind to the Jellicles, the one they always turned to when they needed human aid. She and her mate often left pans of cat food outside the Junkyard, and when an ill or injured cat showed up at their doorstep, she would simply pick up the poor creature and whisk it away to the local animal hospital, bringing the cat back within a few days.

"Here we are," Jellylorum stated with a sigh of relief, her eyes instantly going to the large picture window that overlooked the tiny front lawn that was nearly overtaken by rosebushes. In the window sat a tortoiseshell with glowing green eyes, whose ears perked at the sound of Jellylorum's voice. The cat sat up, peered into the street at the four Jellicles, and quickly disappeared. A few seconds later, the front flap on the door opened and the cat appeared again.

"My, it's been quite a while since I've laid eyes on you," she smiled warmly at Jellylorum. Her voice held the tumbling lilt of Scotland. "I suppose that's a good thing, though."

Her green eyes immediately went to Aleyn, whose breathing was even more labored.

"What's wrong with the wee 'un?"

"Not sure. Maybe pneumonia." Jellylorum answered quickly. She didn't like talking about it in front of Aleyn—no sense in scaring the kit.

The tortoiseshell seemed to understand. She gave a warm smile to Aleyn, "Well, there's no need to worry about it now—I'll take you in and let the humans have a look at you. We'll have you back home, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, in no time at all."

Demeter gently nudged her daughter forward, her voice soft and soothing, "Go with this nice cat, Leyni darling. The humans are going to take you somewhere to get you better."

"I have to alone?" Aleyn's eyes were wide with terror.

"Only for a little while," the tortoiseshell replied. "It'll be a grand adventure, my lass. Just imagine the stories you'll get to tell when you get back home."

Aleyn smiled at the thought—her siblings would be jealous, hearing all her tales of life outside the yard.

"Come on, lass," the tortoiseshell reached through the thin iron bars of the fence. "Pop on over and we'll get you in and on your way to the hospital."

Now her gaze flicked back to Jellylorum, "Wait here. The mistress is in; she'll have her in the car and off to the vet's in a flash. I'll let you know as soon as they've gone."

The three Jellicles nodded, all unconsciously holding their breath as the tortoiseshell picked Aleyn up by the scruff of her neck again and gingerly carried her inside the house.

After what seemed like an eternity, the cats heard the hum of a car engine. A small beat-up automobile backed out of the driveway next to the iron fence, pulling out into the deserted street and driving off.

The tortoiseshell appeared again, her smile not nearly as bright this time. She bounded down the steps to them, "They've gone. But I can't say it looks good. I don't think I've ever seen the mistress so disturbed."

Demeter gave a small groan. Jellylorum instantly pulled her daughter closer.

The tortoiseshell looked at Demeter, "You're the mother, aren't you?"

Demeter nodded.

"Come inside," she stepped back, motioning them to follow with her tail. "The house is empty, and the humans wouldn't mind, so long as you don't leave a mess."

The three Jellicles followed her into the small house, through the tidy kitchen and into a warm sitting room. She hopped back onto the picture windowsill, "I'll keep an eye out for the humans. If they show up, you'll have to dart out the way you came and wait in the roses til I give the all-clear."

Jellylorum simply nodded; obviously she'd done this before.

"I've completely forgotten my manners," the stranger blushed looking down on Roary and Demeter with a smile. "Would you like any food? Or perhaps a catnip mouse to play with?"

"We're fine, thanks," Roary smiled back at her.

"Jellylorum doesn't usually bring company," the tortoiseshell commented.

"Looks like you aren't the only one who forgot her manners." Jellylorum turned to the other two Jellicles, "Minerva, this is Roary Huffersnuff and my daughter, Demeter."

"Minerva," Roary smiled. "Lovely name."

"Well, it's not nearly as imaginative as a Jellicle name, but it gets the job done," she winked at him. She turned her attention to Demeter, "I should have guessed who you were—you favor your mother."

Demeter merely smiled.

"I suppose your mind's too filled with worry to handle all this small talk," Minerva's face was filled with compassion. Demeter didn't try to refute the statement—she simply gave a slight nod of her head and sighed heavily.

"Is there...is there just somewhere quiet where I could wait...alone?"

Minerva nodded, motioning across the room with her tail. "There's a little wicker basket in the study. I doubt you'll be able to sleep, but at least it's a comfortable place to wait."

The black and gold queen offered a small smile and thanked her hostess, padding across the room and disappearing into the study.

"Poor thing," Minerva gave a sympathetic smile and turned her face back to the window, her eyes scanning the street.

"So where's Sybil?" Jellylorum looked around.

"At the vet's, coincidentally." The corner of Minerva's mouth quirked into an wry smile. She looked back at Roary, "My house mate is a bit...skittish. Always has been. She got spooked by some house guests the other day and injured herself trying to escape."

"I don't blame her," Roary gave a small smile. "I don't care for humans either."

"Oh, when you find the right ones, they aren't so bad," Minerva assured him. "It takes a while to train them, too, but luckily mine are quick learners. They'd had cats before me that brought them up right, so my work wasn't too hard at all."

Jellylorum simply shook her head with a chuckle. She agreed with Roary—humans weren't worth the time and effort required to train them into being acceptable housekeepers.

Minerva realized that she was outnumbered on this argument, so she merely shrugged and turned back to the window with a smile. Jellylorum crouched down, curling her tail around herself as she gave a light sigh. Now that the humans were taking care of Aleyn, Jellylorum could finally let go of the fear and the anger.

Roary Huffersnuff moved closer to her, settling down next to her, his shoulder barely touching hers. In a low voice, he asked, "So, when are you going to say something about your daughter?"

"What is there to say about Demeter?" Jellylorum was confused.

"Your other daughter."

Jellylorum ducked her head. "I don't think there's anything to say about Etcetera, either."

"She's missing, Jellylorum," Roary spoke quietly, as if he feared that his words would shatter her.

"No, she's not," the calico queen retorted softly. She looked up at him, her green eyes filled with some unreadable emotion, "I saw her. After the battle, I saw her leave with the rebels. And I knew it was for the best. So I didn't say anything, to anyone. Lots of cats went missing; let them think she's simply disappeared, like Jemima. So long as no one knows what really happened."

"You haven't told anyone about this?"

"Well, I just told you."

Roary wasn't sure how to respond to this. Part of him was honored that she'd told him and no one else, but part of him was angry that she hadn't said something sooner.

"It would be so much easier to be your friend if you actually shared things," he kept his tone neutral, but he was certain that she still detected the undercurrent of frustration.

"I don't really _share_ things," she admitted quietly. She tried to explain, tried to tiptoe across the surface of all the deeper things that influenced her life, "I just...never have, really. It seems weak."

"And you don't do weakness, either," Roary stated. Now, a smile danced at the corner of his mouth.

"I try not to." His smile was contagious; it sneaked across her own lips, although she wasn't sure what he was smiling about. She cocked her head to the side, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he shook his head. "You're just so infuriatingly independent, even for a cat."

"I'll try to see the compliment in that."

"It was meant as one. Sorta."

She gave his shoulder a playful shove.

Minerva suddenly sat up, "The other human's coming up the drive."

Her voice was loud enough to carry into the study; Demeter appeared in the doorway, quickly moving across the room and to the front door with Roary and Jellylorum.

"There probably won't be news til the morrow," Minerva warned them. "But I'll come and get you when the humans leave again in the morning."

The three Jellicles nodded, quickly disappearing out the pet door. Minerva went to the back door to greet her human. It was a Tuesday, so he would be bringing home fish to cook for dinner and he would give her small pieces while he was preparing it. She'd trained him well, that one. He even knew which pieces were her favorite.

* * *

><p>The tang of the salt water pricked Mistoffelees' nostrils as he made his way down the wharf, through streets that seemed like a different world in the daylight. His stomach was still flip-flopping with nerves and uncertainty. He wasn't afraid of his father; he was simply afraid that they wouldn't have anything in common, that today's meeting would shatter the long-hoped-for deep connection with his father, the kind he'd seen between other fathers and sons, the kind he'd envied for most of his life.<p>

Macavity was sitting on the seawall, looking out at the gulls swooping over the ships. He looked like an ordinary cat, a mere mortal, not the Hidden Paw, the Napoleon of Crime, the Great Plague of the Jellicle Tribe.

Misto quietly jumped up on the seawall edge, padding across the stones to sit next to him. Macavity gave him a slight smile and turned back to the sea. He nodded his head in the direction of one of the ships, "A human ship bound for Cape Cod. Ever been there?"

"Nope."

"Me either."

There was a silence, not entirely comfortable, but not awkward, either.

"Sending anything out on these ships today?" Misto asked, unsure of what else to ask.

"Not today," Macavity shook his head. "And usually we try to use ships run by cats only. Less chance of having your cargo discovered and confiscated or thrown overboard."

"There are ships with only cats as crew?" Misto was incredulous.

"There aren't many these days," Macavity admitted. "The ones that still exist have to come and go at odd hours, when humans aren't around. Not an easy life."

Suddenly, the gingertom gave a slight chuckle, "Although, I guess running the biggest crime ring in London isn't an easy life, either."

Misto didn't know how to respond, so he didn't.

Macavity's face sobered once again, "Your mother used to love it—the glamour, the adrenaline, the power of being the old lady to the roughest cat in town. It was like she was born to do it. Not that she ever actually got her paws dirty, mind you. But she knew how to handle things."

He took another deep breath, and Misto suddenly realized that his father was just as nervous as he was. They were about to get into the meat of their family tragedy, and although it was scary, it had to be met head-on.

"But then, things changed," he looked down at the water. "After—after we lost you and your sisters, it wasn't enough for her anymore. She didn't want any of it. She just...drifted away. And I let her. I let her drift away."

There it was. His damning confession, his moment of truth, the sin he'd carried around his neck like a millstone—he'd let the only cat that he truly loved push him away at the moment she needed him most. Through weakness or fear or pride or apathy or some other unknown flaw, he'd simply faded away, rather than staying and fighting and protecting her from herself. It was his greatest regret and his single torment.

Misto wanted to reach for his father, to hold him and tell him that it was OK, that it wasn't his fault, that he forgave him, but he couldn't. Still, he had to find something to bridge the gap.

"She never blamed you," the young tom said quietly.

Macavity turned to look at him, his red-rimmed eyes filled with disbelief.

"She never…she always smiled when she talked about you," Misto continued, fighting back his own tears. "She never said any of the things that the other Jellicles say about you. She didn't blame you for any of it."

The tears were falling freely down the gingertom's face now, and he turned away, embarrassed. Again, Misto wanted to reach out to him, but he feared what would happen if he did.

Macavity regained composure, focusing back on the ships ahead. His breath was ragged, as if he feared what he would hear next, "And at the end…were you there?"

"Yes," his son answered quietly. "I didn't actually see Munkustrap kill her, but I saw her after, on the ground."

The gingertom nodded slowly, taking it all in. The night before, he didn't dare ask Rumpleteaser and Mungojerrie for details, even though he desperately wanted to—he was afraid he would become too emotional, look too weak in front of his comrades. But now he knew. Munkustrap had killed her, with his own paw. He had suspected as much, and even if Munkustrap hadn't physically killed Red, he was responsible—he was the one who started the war in which she'd died.

"I never liked Munkustrap," he admitted. "But I never thought he'd do something like this."

Misto didn't respond. Macavity noticed his silence, and his face contorted in compassion, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you relive it."

"I relive it every day," Misto spoke quietly. "Even if I don't talk about it."

Suddenly Macavity reached over, pulling Misto into a hug. At first, the young tom was too shocked to react, but then he relaxed, returning his father's embrace. Neither one spoke; neither one cried. After a few seconds, they released one another.

"Come," Macavity turned and jumped off the seawall, back onto the pavement. "I'll show you around."

* * *

><p>Aleyn tried to stop herself from shivering, but her limbs quaked with fear no matter how hard she tried. First the human had whisked her away in a strange box, cooing softly to her in some attempt at communication, and then she'd taken a hellish ride in a car, only to be taken out and poked and prodded by more strange humans with cold hands and sharp needles. The worse part was that she didn't feel any better—she felt worse. Her chest was tightening and it was becoming harder to breath, which her constant shaking wasn't helping.<p>

Another set of hands picked her up and took her to another room, where other animals waited in cages, barking and meowing and chirping. She was placed in an empty cage. She moved to the corner, as far away from the garish lights and the other strange animals as possible.

The cat in the cage next to her looked at her curiously. "Are you quite alright, wee 'un?"

Her accent was funny, but in a pretty way. It was like the cat who had taken her into the human house.

"I wanna go home," Aleyn whispered meekly.

The other cat gave a compassionate smile, "Oh, don't worry. In a day or two, you're humans will come pick you up, and everything will be right as rain."

"I don't have humans. My mama brought me to a human house, so they could bring me here, but I'm a Jellicle. I live at the yard."

"A Jellicle, you say?" The cat sat up, her yellow eyes wide with surprise. "Did you go to a house with a tortoiseshell queen named Minerva?"

"I...I don't know her name, but she was a tortoiseshell. She talked like you do."

The stranger chuckled. "That's Minnie, alright. I'm her housemate, Sybil. Quite funny to make your acquaintance here, of all places."

"I'm Aleyn."

"My, that's a pretty name."

Aleyn gave another cough, struggling to catch her breath.

Sybil's expression became concerned, "What brought you here, Aleyn?"

"I've had a cough. And it's hard to breathe."

The older cat nodded. She noticed the kit was still shivering, "Lass, you need to get warmer."

She moved to the edge of her cage, pressing as close to Aleyn's cage as she could, "Come, curl up next to me. Tisn't much, but a little warmth is better than none at all."

Aleyn curled up next to her, feeling the tips of Sybil's fur that peeked through the wires into her own cage. Sybil was right—she could feel the light warmth of the other cat's body radiating to her own.

"It smells funny in here," she announced, in the honest way that only kittens can.

Sybil laughed, "It does. That's all the antiseptics and chemicals they use. You get used to it, after awhile."

"It's noisy, too," the kit grimaced, looking around at the animals in the other cages.

The older queen shot a distasteful look at the terrier across the aisle, who'd whimpered incessantly ever since he'd gotten here. "Some of us are better at adjusting to change than others. Sadly, it doesn't get much quieter."

She pasted on a bright smile, "But luckily, you won't be here too long."

Aleyn felt another tight spasm in her chest as she nodded. She didn't miss the concerned look in Sybil's face when she drew a labored breath. Aleyn knew that she was sicker than they were telling her, and she got the queasy feeling that she would be here much longer than she wanted to.

She tried to snuggle closer to Sybil, blocking the bad thoughts from her mind. She closed her eyes and tried to think about the yard and the open sky and the smell of home.

* * *

><p>Rumpleteaser unceremoniously jerked open the curtains, sending in a flood of sunlight that nearly blinded Tugger. He groaned and covered his eyes, rolling over in bed.<p>

"Roise and shoine."

"Why in Bast's name are you in here, Teaser?"

"Oi told you—you dohn' need ta be alone. And if you wohn' come out there with the otha's, Oi'll come in 'ere to you." She plopped down on the edge of the bed and Tugger knew that she wasn't going to leave until he responded. He rolled over to face her. She cocked her head to the side with a smile. He laughed.

"How are the others?" He asked quietly, his expression becoming serious once more.

"Betta' than you," she shot back with a quirk of her eyebrow. Then she sobered up as well. "Misto's been pretty quoiet, but Oi know it's hit 'im pretty hard. And poor li'l Pounce is on the road to recovery as well, but his 'eart's a mess. All our 'earts need healing, Oi suppose."

She turned her face back to the open window. "Alonzo buried Cass. He made sure she was taken care of."

"Good," Tugger felt another weight slip off his shoulder. "I worried about her, you know. I was able to get Bombie to safety, but I didn't have time, I couldn't go back for Cass."

"Lonz loved her. He neva' woulda let anyfing bad happen," Teaser replied softly. Tugger nodded in understanding.

"Is he the one who saved you?"

The tiger-striped queen nodded. "He patched up my leg, kept me 'idden from Munku, 'elped me escape."

She gave a heavy sigh, "He's a good tom."

"He always was," Tugger agreed. "I think he's the only one who follows his oath the way it was meant to be followed."

"That was the only thing he asked of me," Teaser admitted quietly. "He jus' wanted the otha's to know that he'd taken care of Cass, and to know all the things he'd done for me, for us. Poor tom, Oi think he knows how it will all end, and he's afraid of bein' rememba'd as some evil henchman."

"We all want to be remembered in a kind light," the maine coon replied philosophically. He looked at Teaser curiously, "But do you really think that's how it will end? Do you really think we'll be the ones who win this war?"

"Oi know we will."

Tugger sat up, "There's something you're not telling me."

The tabby queen took a deep breath, steadying herself for the storm that was sure to come, "Last noight, we met with Macavity. He's agreed to 'elp us take out Munkustrap."

The Rum Tum Tugger sat back, as if someone had punched him in the gut. Teaser watched him with anxious eyes, waiting for some kind of reaction, some sign as to how to pursue the subject.

Finally he spoke, quietly, carefully, "Did he see Mistoffelees?"

"Yes."

"Does he know?" Tugger looked into Teaser's green eyes, and she knew what he was asking.

"He recognoized 'im immediately. Nobody told 'im. He jus' knew."

Tugger nodded. He looked away again, "How's Misto taking it?"

"As well as can be expected," the tabby shrugged. "He's lost his mother and found his father in two weeks' toime. That's a lot of changes to go through."

"Quite a lot," Tugger agreed heavily. "I think I'd like to be alone again, Teaser."

She simply nodded, giving his shoulder one last affectionate pat. She quietly left the room. With a sigh, Tugger pulled himself onto the windowsill, making his way to the roof. There were so many things he had to tell Bombalurina today. Even though he felt that she was probably hovering over them, watching it all, it was somehow cathartic to speak things aloud to her. He knew that probably qualified him as a true nutter, but he didn't care. In truth, this thing that might be seen as crazy by others was actually the only thing that kept his slim grip on sanity. And if there was one thing he'd learned about grief and mourning, it was that you found whatever got you through, and you held onto it like hell, no matter how strange or obscure it seemed. He didn't question it. He simply held on.

* * *

><p><em><strong>*AN: So...I recently realized that Jellylorum has never dealt with (or even acknowledged) Cetty's disappearance...I guess she won't be winning any Mother of the Year awards any time soon, but I tried to correct the issue in this chapter, because I felt I needed to mention it, even if it was in a belated, awkward way. Oy vey. **_

_**Also: Minerva and Sybil, since they aren't Jellicles, would go by their "human" names (names given to them by their humans). Obviously, their humans are Harry Potter fans. I couldn't resist.***_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

_***A/N: A heartfelt thank you to everyone who has left such wonderful reviews. Y'all are the reason I keep writing...aside from the manic imperative I feel to tell these stories, of course.***_

Jemima gave a deep sigh of satisfaction as she looked out at the clear morning sky. It was a bright, peaceful day, with a light breeze that made it perfect for sailing. The ship rocked slightly, but Jemima barely noticed anymore. Over the past two weeks, she had gained her sea legs—right now she was happily installed in the crow's nest, as if she'd spent her entire life on the ship. She knew the other cats were impressed at how quickly she had adapted to life at sea, and that filled her with a sense of pride. After a lifetime of simply being the baby of the Jellicle Tribe, it was liberating to be seen as a cat in her own right.

"Jems," Bill Bailey called from the deck. She quickly leaned over to look down at him. The tom shielded his eyes from the sunlight as he stared up at her, "Ya ready to come down? Carbucketty's shift starts in a bit—he can take over."

"I'll wait until he comes," she replied.

Bill just shook his head with a wry laugh, "Such a good little sailor you are. Not abandoning your post until the next watch is here."

"Someone has to follow the rules," she countered with a smile. "Especially since you're intent on breaking every one of them."

He laughed at the quip, "Too true, Jems, too true."

He motioned back to the cabins, "I take it you're not coming down for breakfast, then?"

"Not until Carbucketty comes to relieve me," she replied. He simply nodded and disappeared back into the cabins.

Jemima glanced up to see the ship's captain, Brim, standing resolutely beside the wheel, staring out at the calm morning sea. She wondered how long he'd been there.

"Good morning," she called to him. He merely nodded in acknowledgement. Jemima turned uneasily back towards the horizon. Captain Brim certainly was a strange cat. Quiet, reserved, hardly speaking a word to anyone—in fact, his crew knew very little about him, but they weren't bothered by it. Carbucketty had confided in Jemima that the others were certain Brim was short for some other name, but no one knew what because they were all too afraid to ask. The captain had never harmed a crew member, but there was something behind his eyes, a certain distant threat of violence that no one wanted to provoke. All in all, he was a good tom and a solid captain, so they let him sit in his silence and followed his orders whenever he did speak. Of course, the chatty crew of _The Ratcatcher_ more than made up for his quiet ways—someone was always singing, or fighting, or reading aloud whilst the others labored. There were few dull moments; it seemed the crew's main goal was not to bring the ship safely to port, but rather to avoid more than thirty seconds of tediousness at any given time.

The ship rolled over another wave, and she gave a slight smile, turning her face back to the horizon. The wind and the waves were stronger today, but not unpleasant. She chuckled to herself at the thought that two weeks ago, she would have been too ill to move, with all the rocking and bucking the ship was doing today.

There was another hard gust of wind, and one of the lower sails broke free from it's tie, fluttering spastically in the wind. Jemima jumped onto a nearby rope and scurried down to the escaped sail, her paws outstretched to grab the corner.

Another wave rolled beneath, and the ship lurched to the right, sending Jemima backwards and into the deck's railing with a thud.

Captain Brim suddenly appeared, grabbing the wayward sail and rolling it back to the boom, "Carbucketty! Dina!"

The two cats appeared, and without any other instructions, they ran to the other lower sail, untying it and furling it to the boom as well. Jemima was back on her feet, helping the captain tie off the sail. He looked over and gave her a curt nod of thanks.

The burst of frenetic activity subsided once the lower sails were balanced and the ship carried on its merry way, frolicking over the sea. Brim moved closer to Jemima, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she replied, a little shocked by his concern.

"Lemme see," he reached forward, pressing her lower spine, where she'd hit the railing. She gave a small hiss of pain. He didn't apologize; she didn't expect him to. He simply stepped back, "Not too bad. It'll be tender and bruised for a few days, but nothing serious."

She nodded, her mind still thinking of how warm his paw felt on her back.

He turned to Carbucketty, "Buck, aren't you on duty now?"

"I can be," the tom answered noncommittally. Brim nodded and Carbucketty scuttled up the mast, popping into the crow's nest.

Dina came over, her face etched with concern, "Y'okay, Jems? That looked like a pretty hard hit."

"I think it hurt my pride more than my back," Jemima replied with a wry grin, and Dina laughed.

"C'mon. Breakfast's ready."

With one last small smile at the captain, Jemima followed Dina back below decks. Bill Bailey was setting out small portions of salted fish. Jemima tried to fight back the inward groan—she didn't mind fish, but it was the only thing they ever had. Ever.

Dina must have read her mind, because she gave an apologetic smile, "In two days, we'll be back in home port, and then you can have anything you want."

Jemima simply smiled and nodded. When they'd landed at their first port four days ago, the crew had gone out to a pub, drinking and singing and dancing and laughing at the firm ground beneath their feet. They'd stayed for two days, and after they'd turned a profit on their cargo (Jemima still hadn't dared to ask what exactly their cargo was), they'd gone out to a lavish dinner. The whole adventure was exotic and glamorous and nothing like anything Jemima had ever experienced before.

"Watcha gonna do when you get back home, Jems?" Bill Bailey asked in a light tone, but Jemima knew there was a deeper curiosity behind it. She still hadn't told them why she ran away from the Jellicles, and they still hadn't asked. At least not directly.

"I don't know," she replied, looking down at her plate. Bill took the hint and didn't pursue the subject any further.

The other cats continued talking, discussing their plans, but Jemima's mind wandered. What would she do? By now, her father knew she was missing—she wondered what her mother had told him. Were the Jellicles looking for her? Did they think she was dead?

She decided that she would simply have to find a new part of London to stay for awhile, somewhere far away from Jellicle Territory—which wouldn't be too hard, considering that the Jellicles weren't allowed to leave the Junkyard anymore.

"Y'Okay?" Katya's soft voice brought Jemima from her inner discussion.

"What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine," the younger queen answered quickly, covering with a smile.

Katya gave her a long look, and Jemima knew that Katya didn't believe her. Still, the sandy brown queen was polite enough not to say anything. She simply gave a slight arch of her eyebrow and turned her attention back to Bill Bailey's colorful tale of his last time on shore leave.

Jemima finished her breakfast and went back above deck. Her body was tired, but her mind was still running at full throttle. Joining the other cats had simply been a way of getting out of Jellicle Territory; it was a whim, a chance that she took because she wasn't sure what else to do. But now, she was returning—she wasn't even sure if the captain would ask her to join the crew on their next venture, much less when the next venture would be. Even if she became part of the crew, it might be weeks or even months before they left port again. Where would she stay?

Captain Brim appeared beside her. Neither spoke, but it was a comfortable silence. Early on, Jemima had realized that Brim was a quiet, introspective cat, and that he would speak when he was ready, so it was best just to wait.

"Are you happy to return home?" He finally spoke, and she detected the same curious tone that had been in Bill Bailey's query.

"Not particularly," she replied in a neutral tone, her focus still on the water slicing past the ship's hull.

"Sea life suits you." It was a compliment, but Jemima sensed something deeper.

"It's a completely different world out here," she smiled up at the sun. "But I like it."

"Then you would be amenable to shipping out with us again," he stated, although she understood the question behind it.

"I would be very amenable," she agreed. He was a funny thing, with his quiet ways and eloquent vocabulary. In the very few conversations they'd had, Jemima could tell that he was a well-educated cat, and she wondered how in Heaviside he'd ended up in this line of work. She took a moment to study his features before deciding that he actually was quite handsome.

"Good," he gave a curt nod of his head. "We have another shipment waiting on us when we get back; we'll be in port for three days and then we'll ship out. It's just a quick trip up North, but it will keep you out of Jellicle Territory for a little while longer."

He turned to her, "That is why you're with us, isn't it? You're running from the Jellicles."

And there it was. He'd said it so casually, as if it were completely normal to have someone on the lam, hiding out on the ship.

"Yes," she looked him straight in the eye. She wasn't going to skirt the truth, not with him. "There was a battle, between the Jellicles and a group of rebels that escaped the yard months ago. My aunt was one of the rebels. I watched my father kill her. And after that, I knew I could never go back."

He simply nodded. Then he turned back to the horizon, "So, here you are."

Jemima followed his gaze, "So, here I am."

And just like that, it was over. Her dark secret was out and there were no more questions or lectures or any other reaction besides simple acceptance. She felt a small smile of relief building at the corners of her mouth.

"If you're going to stay on as a crew member, you'll have to meet our client," Brim abruptly changed the subject. "I'll take you to meet him once we dock."

She nodded. With a curt nod of dismissal, the captain turned and walked away.

"Captain." Her voice stopped him. He turned back to face her, his expression carefully assembled into an unreadable mask—that was another thing she'd noticed about him, he seemed to be able to assume a look of complete indifference and ambivalence in any situation.

She stepped forward, a small, shy smile on her lips, "Thank you."

His mask did not hide the flicker of surprise in his eyes—at least not quickly enough to escape Jemima's notice.

"You're welcome, Jemima." He said simply, turning away again.

Jemima turned back to the sea, a smile in her secret heart. That was the first time he'd called her by her name. She liked the way it sounded on his lips.

* * *

><p>"Where are you going?"<p>

Electra's voice stopped Mistoffelees in his tracks.

He turned back around, mentally preparing himself for the battle that was sure to ensue, "To the docks."

"To see Macavity." It wasn't a question. Something in her tone instantly put Misto on-edge.

"To see my _father_."

She heard the anger in his voice, and she knew that she was pushing into murky waters, but she went forward anyways. "He's still who is, Misto, regardless of his relationship to you."

"And who is he, exactly?" There was a challenge in the question.

She took a deep breath and met it head-on. "He is an ally, but that doesn't make him a friend. And honestly, we still don't know that much about him—"

"I'm trying to correct that," Misto shot back. "So if you'll excuse me—"

"Misto." There was a plaintiveness in her voice, a pleading that tugged at his heart and made him turn back to her. Her eyes were filled with worry as she stepped forward hesitantly, "Just be careful, OK?"

His anger melted as he realized that Lecs' only concern was for his safety. He offered her a small smile, "I will."

"Maybe I should go with you."

"There's nothing to worry about, Lecs."

"Still," she took another small step towards him. "I would feel better, knowing you weren't out there on your own. It's not safe to travel alone."

"I can handle myself." He held up his paws, "I'm a conjurer, remember?"

"Please."

He gave in with a sigh, "Fine, Lecs. You can tag along if you think I need protection that badly."

"I'll just walk with you. I'll find something else to do while you're with Macavity—I don't want to interrupt your time together," she reassured him. With another sad smile, she added, "I can't imagine how many questions I'd want to ask, if I finally met my father."

He'd forgotten that she was an orphan, raised by Jellylorum and Jennyanydots. Mistoffelees often felt cheated out of truly knowing either of his parents, felt the sting of knowing he'd never have kittenhood memories with them like other cats—but he suddenly realized how blessed he had been for being able to know them at all. Electra had no idea who her parents were, she didn't even have a single memory of them, whereas Misto had several good years with his mother and was now beginning to build some kind of relationship with his father.

Apologies were just words. They never fully healed the wound. So Misto didn't use words. He moved to her, wrapping her into a hug. She didn't return the embrace, but simply rested her head on his shoulder.

"It's OK, Misto," she whispered softly. "It's a thing I've had to deal with my whole life. I'm used to it by now. It's just a part of who I am."

He pulled back, taking a moment to examine her calm expression. She'd always been so strong, perhaps the strongest of the younger Jellicles. She never seemed to need anyone. Perhaps things weren't always what they seemed.

* * *

><p>Sybil was known as a "frequent flyer" at the veterinary clinic—her anxiety attacks and general lack of grace ensured that she spent a larger-than-normal amount of time here among strangers and cages. After awhile, she'd become accustomed to the noises and smells and bad lighting, and she found that she could sleep quite peacefully in her cage. It was simply a matter of adapting and adjusting, and despite her nerves, she was actually very adaptive.<p>

However, her slumber was interrupted by a harsh, horrible sound. Her heart jolted in her chest when she realized the sound was coming from the tiny kitten nestled to her side.

"Aleyn?" She reached the tip of her paw through the wires, trying to shake the kit awake. "Aleyn!"

The kit looked at her with fearful eyes, and they both knew what was happening.

"Mama," Aleyn wheezed, and those two syllables took almost all of her strength.

"Don't worry, wee 'un, your mother's coming to get you soon," Sybil forced her tone to be gentle and reassuring, her stomach sinking in the knowledge that she was telling an outright lie. "Just close your eyes and rest awhile."

"No." Aleyn gasped again. "Tell. Mama. Tell. Her."

"Don't talk right now," Sybil tried to calm her down. She slipped her tail between the wires and wrapped it around the kit. She looked up, her eyes roving around the room, trying to figure out what time of day it was—in this room, there were no windows, and one lost all sense of time. If it was still daylight, there would still be plenty of humans around who could hear her cries for help. The humans could help. They could do things that Sybil never imagined.

"Somebody help us!" She called at the top of her lungs. "Somebody! Help!"

This action roused the terrier across the aisle, who began yipping and yelping again, inciting the other animals into absolute pandemonium.

"Tell Mama," Aleyn took another deep breath, putting all of her strength into her words. "Tell her I was brave."

"You can tell her yourself," Sybil replied, her attention now firmly back on the small kit beside her. The other animals were making enough of a ruckus to bring in a human—hopefully one would come in soon.

"No." Aleyn's face was set. She knew that no such thing would ever happen, and surprisingly, she wasn't scared. She just wanted to make sure that everything was settled.

Sybil understood, and she decided to allow the kit the dignity of being honest in her final moments.

"I'll tell her," she said softly, feeling the wave of hot tears welling up in her eyes.

"Tell her not to be sad." Another deep gasp, another ghastly wheeze, another cough.

"I will."

Aleyn simply closed her eyes with a grateful smile. It was too hard to breathe anymore, let alone speak. Her body suddenly felt warm, like the warm, snuggly, safe way she felt curled up next to her mother and her siblings—the perfect warmth that lulled her to sleep many nights. So that's what she did. She went to sleep.

Sybil watched this entire danse macabre, her eyes ripped wide with horror—the soft smile that began to fade, the chest that stopped rising, the little body that slowly slipped into a limp husk, no longer filled with energy and breath and life of the kit who inhabited it.

Sybil was a frequent flyer at the veterinary clinic—she'd seen many things within these walls. This was not the first time that she'd seen an animal die. This was, however, the first time that she had ever cried.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

The little battered automobile was returning once again. Demeter's ears pricked at the sound; from her hiding place in the rosebushes, she leaned forward expectantly.

Jellylorum and Roary Huffersnuff were immediately on-edge as well, holding their breaths as their eyes followed the car up the driveway. After what seemed like an eternity, Minerva slowly emerged from the cat door.

"Something's wrong." The words were out of Jellylorum's mouth before she could stop them. Minerva was walking too slowly, her eyes were too veiled, her manner too subdued.

"No." Demeter's heart broke. She moved towards the tortoiseshell, towards the words she didn't want to hear, the knowledge she didn't want to have, and yet, she couldn't stop herself. It was as if she'd lost complete control of her own body.

"No, no, no, no. Please. No." That was her prayer, a hurried whisper repeated over and over again.

Minerva saw the words on her lips and her face contorted in compassion. And that look answered all of Demeter's fears, bringing them to life in roaring, ripping, blinding color.

"It...can't." Suddenly the air was sucked out of her lungs. Everything became very still and very, very quiet. The world stopped.

"I'm so sorry," Minerva's voice was soft, pained, broken. She reached for Demeter, but then pulled back, as if she feared that by touching her, she would shatter the black and gold queen completely. "They tried. But it was too late."

"When?"

"Beg your pardon?" Minerva leaned forward, trying to catch Demeter's low tone.

"When did she die?" Demeter was suddenly calm, achingly calm. Roary looked over at Jellylorum and was shocked at how quickly her entire being had changed—she looked like a different cat, with her red-rimmed eyes, her face that seemed to age a century in a matter of seconds, her slumped shoulders, her vacant stare.

"This morning." Minerva sighed. She motioned back to the stoop, where another cat timidly waited. "Sybil was with her. She can talk to you about it, when you're ready."

Demeter gave a curt nod. She turned back to her mother, took a step forward, and fainted.

* * *

><p>Jemima woke up screaming, being shaken awake by Dina, whose face was pale and filled with worry.<p>

"Jems! Jems, it's just a dream!"

The younger queen sat up suddenly, looking around wildly. She couldn't remember the dream, all that she could remember was darkness and terror and something else.

"Something's happened," she tried to catch her breath. "Something's happened back home."

"What? What has happened?" Dina's voice was soft, but her eyes were curious. Rumor was that every Jellicle possessed a mystical power, and she wondered if Jemima had some kind of prophetic gift.

"I don't know," Jemima began to cry. "Something bad has happened, I can feel it. I just...I don't know what it is."

She suddenly looked very tiny and very young, and Dina's heart felt a twinge of motherly affection for this poor kit. She pulled Jemima to her, cooing softly in her ear as she held her. She felt the warm gusts of Jemima's breath on her shoulder, and heard the younger queen whisper some unintelligible words. Dina tried to discern them. Jemima was saying them over and over, like a mantra or a prayer.

"I have to go home, I have to go home, I have to go..."

* * *

><p>Tantomile gently dabbed a wet cloth around the still-red stitches. It had been two days since Teathrice's injury, and Tanto was surprised at how easily she'd fallen into the role of nursemaid, cleaning her wound and feeding her and singing her to sleep. She generally became queasy at the sight of blood, and was practically useless when it came to taking care of other cats, but she never had the slightest difficulty when it came to Teathrice.<p>

_Perhaps it's different when you love someone_. The thought rolled across her mind so naturally, and yet it left her stunned. It stunned her because she knew it was true.

She loved Teathrice. More than any other cat besides her brother, but that was a different kind of love—the love of siblings was something that seemed imbued from birth, some strange bond that could hardly be broken. It wasn't a choice, or something one really thought about.

Of course, she hadn't really thought about loving Teathrice, either. It was just something she knew, something that had grown so quietly and so gently that she hadn't even realized it was there.

But now she knew.

The black and white queen immediately tried to sort out this new information, to categorize it and put it in its appropriate box in her mind, but she found that she couldn't. She loved Teathrice, she knew that much, but it wasn't in the way she loved Coricopat, it wasn't in the way toms loved queens, either—at least she didn't think so. She'd never loved anyone with the kind of love that cats sang and wrote poems about; she'd always thought that part of her must be broken in some way, that she was forever detached from the ability to feel such all-consuming passion. No, what she felt was something quieter, much gentler.

She suddenly realized that she didn't want to know. She didn't want a label or a category for this feeling; she didn't want to take this unnameable thing and slip it into a box that couldn't possibly contain or describe everything that it was supposed to hold. Trying to find a simple logical term for this complex emotion seemed only to profane and degrade it. For once, the unknown seemed better. So she would let this thing remain as it was, without question or reason or name or known source.

Notekins O'Malley entered the den, giving Tanto an excuse to pull away from her thoughts. He offered a small, tired smile, "How's she doin' this morning?"

"Better, I suppose," Tanto returned a small smile of her own.

"You could just ask me instead of talking over my head like I'm not here," Teathrice's low voice was tinged with amusement. She didn't even open her eyes to watch Notekins' reaction.

"I thought you were asleep." He admitted, and now the smile on his face was deeper and warmer.

"I was until you came in. You're the noisiest cat I've ever known." The grey queen directed her next comment to Tanto, who was still lightly dabbing the cloth on her stitches, "That feels nice."

"It's healing nicely, too," Tantomile informed her.

"As nicely as a debilitating wound can heal, anyways," Teathrice added, her tone still wry.

"It's not debilitating," Notekins corrected her.

She turned her attention back to him, her face suddenly sober, "O'Malley, I can't feel the tips of my toes. My whole left foreleg feels like it's asleep. Whatever damage was done, some of it will heal, but not all of it. Even if I don't end up being a complete cripple, I'll still have a limp that will effectively change my daily life."

"We don't know that for sure." There was a hardness in Notekins' voice. He wasn't the type to accept defeat.

"I do." Teathrice replied softly. She understood his need to fight, his desire to overcome, but she knew her body and she knew what it was telling her. Besides, the sooner she accepted that some things would never be the same, the sooner she could start the emotional and mental healing process.

"I'm not saying I won't try," she added gently, and she was relieved to see that it seemed to be enough to calm whatever was brewing beneath the surface of Notekin's eyes. "I'm just saying that I won't be joining the circus as a flying acrobat anytime soon."

This earned her a smile from the tom. It was a rare thing, seeing his smile, but it was also a nice thing to see, with so many troubles lying at their door. Which brought her to her next question, "Has there been any word from Roary and the others?"

"No," Notekins shook his head, and she could tell that the lack of news frustrated him. He would never admit to worrying about them, but Teathrice could read him well enough to know he was.

"I don't think it will end well," Tantomile spoke quietly, and the certainty in her voice turned Teathrice's stomach to lead.

"What do you mean?" Notekins was still, very still.

Tantomile didn't answer.

"Tanto," Teathrice's voice was soft, with fear dancing just at its edges. "Did you…did you see something?"

"I haven't had a vision," the black and white queen answered, setting the cloth back in its bowl. "But I always seem able to sense when something's wrong with Demeter, or when something's about to happen to her—and this morning, I woke up with a queer feeling in my bones."

"Perhaps you could be a little more specific," Notekins' expression was unreadable, but Teathrice could tell that he was shoring himself up for whatever ills were to come.

"I can't, really," Tanto replied sadly. "I just felt…off. Like something bad was going to happen. It was a foreboding, but not a vision. I can't tell you who or what it was about, specifically. I'm just assuming it concerns Demeter, because she's the only one I have that connection to."

Notekins let out a frustrated sigh, but Teathrice simply nodded—after all, she understood better than anyone else the intricacies of Tanto's prophetic gift.

"Well, if something has happened, then I'm afraid we shall know soon enough," the grey queen rested her head on her paws. "Nothing left for us to do but wait."

The black tom gave another growl of discontent as he turned and walked out. Tantomile watched him go with worried eyes, but Teathrice seemed unfazed by his behavior.

"He doesn't like waiting," she commented, although Tantomile had already figured that out on her own. Her voice softened, "That's the warrior in him, I suppose. Give him a battle and he'll fight til the bloody end, no matter how hopeless and futile it seems. So long as he feels that he can do something. He's always been a tom of action. It's all he knows."

The last line was delivered with a mournfulness, a pity that Tantomile found both touching and intriguing. It was obvious that Teathrice and Notekins were close friends, at least at some point. Tantomile wondered if the grey queen ever used that tone when speaking about her to other cats. She certainly hoped not. Being pitied was the worst fate she could imagine.

* * *

><p>Electra was mentally sizing up the building's security system when Misto and his father appeared from inside the club—each day, Macavity was showing his son another part of his vast empire, and today it was his largest and most successful venue, The Blind Tiger.<p>

"It's the best that money and illegal connections has to offer," the gingertom informed her, following her gaze up to the set of cameras positioned at the top of the building.

"I bet I could get around it," she stated. Her voice held no challenge; it was simply matter-of-fact.

Macavity gave a surprised grin, "You think so?"

The dark queen gave a curt nod, her eyes following the wires connected to the cameras, which ran along the edge of the roof. There was something methodical about her inspection which told Macavity that she wasn't bluffing.

"I like her," he told his son. He cast another admiring glance back at Electra, "She's got brains, I can tell, and she isn't afraid to speak her mind."

"Speaking her mind has never been a problem for Lecs," Misto agreed with a wry smile. This earned him an annoyed look from the dark queen, but he could see the amusement behind her eyes.

"No point in having the ability to think if you can't express your thoughts," she returned easily, her gaze going to Macavity. It was a phrase she'd heard Jennyanydots quote many times, and she felt a small prick of sorrow at the memory of the cat who'd raised her.

"Indeed," the gingertom's grin widened. He gave a nod in Misto's direction, "My son tells me that you wouldn't let him come here without an escort."

"I'm sure you can agree, sir, it's neither wise nor safe to walk these streets alone. Especially these days."

Macavity nodded in agreement. He turned back to Mistoffelees, and though his tone was light, there was a seriousness behind his eyes that his son did not miss, "Keep this one around for as long as she'll stay. No matter what you do in life, you always need cats you can trust, cats who will stand by you and protect you, even when you don't think you need it. Those are the ones you keep, no matter the cost."

Misto simply nodded, shooting a glance at Electra, who was looking down at her paws. If her fur wasn't so dark, he would guess that she was blushing. She wasn't used to being complimented, especially not by the most powerful cat in London.

"We'd best be going," he gave his father a quick hug—it was funny, how easily they had fallen into this strange ritual of hugs and jokes and back slaps and laughs, as if they weren't complete strangers only a few days ago. He was grateful for every minute of it, because in these little moments, he realized that on some level, he had finally found that bond that he'd so often envied in other fathers and sons. He felt a pang of sadness at the thought that Electra would never know that feeling.

She was turned away now, trying to give them a little privacy as they said their goodbyes. When Misto walked up beside her, she flashed one last smile at Macavity, who waved and wished her well in return.

The two Jellicles headed down the street, falling into the comfortable gait of two friends who had walked many miles together.

"He's nothing like I thought he'd be." Electra spoke after a pause.

"I never knew what to think he'd be," Misto admitted.

"I'm glad." She noticed that Misto was looking at her, silently asking for more explanation. "For you. I'm glad that he's not what I thought he'd be like. I'm glad he seems like a real dad."

A smile blossomed on Misto's face. "Me, too."

There was another pause. Misto spoke again, "Lecs, do you ever wonder what your parents are like?"

A few seconds passed as she considered his question, "I used to. Not anymore, though."

"Why not?"

"Because I knew that I'd never know for sure," she admitted with a light sigh. "So what's the point in wondering?"

"You might still meet them, someday."

She gave a short, bitter laugh. "And how will I know them, Misto? Do you think they'll instantly recognize me, like Macavity did you? I was found in a cardboard box in an alley only a day or two after I was born."

There was a beat. Electra's voice was small, broken, "I'm not even sure when my birthday is."

In that moment, Misto swore that he could literally feel his heart break. His heart was breaking for this beautiful queen with her uncertain and tragic past, for her lost parents and her unknown birthday, for his friend whose face was filled with a hurt that he could understand on such a deep level.

He stopped. She stopped as well, but she didn't look at him.

"Lecs."

"It's OK, Misto." Her eyes finally met his, and he could see the unshed tears shimmering at the edges. "I told you earlier, it's something I've had to live with my whole life. It is what it is. Don't make a big deal out of it."

"But it is a big deal."

"Why?" She wasn't angry, just hurting and wanting the hurt to stop. Her voice was plaintive, "Why does it matter so much, Misto? If I'm OK with it, why can't you just be OK with it, too?"

He had an answer. He didn't want to say it. Words only meant so much, and this was the kind of thing that needed to be shown, not said.

So he didn't speak. He simply traced the outline of her face with the tip of his paw. Her expression changed from sorrow to confusion to soft wonder as he placed both paws on the sides of her face, leaning forward to place a single, tender kiss on her mouth.

He pulled back, still seeing the wonder in her eyes, coupled with something softer. He held her face a second longer, "It matters because it does matter to you, Lecs, whether you admit it or not. And when it hurts you, it hurts me."

She bit her bottom lip, giving a small nod. He released her and began walking again. She caught up to him, falling back into sync with his steps. She didn't ask why he did it. He hadn't expected her to. Words only said so much, and this was the kind of thing that had spoken so much more.

* * *

><p>Demeter stared down with unseeing eyes at the newly churned and flattened earth. The events of that morning seemed a thousand years away—her mother had revived her from her faint, the other house cat, Sybil, had quietly told her about Aleyn's last moments, her baby's last acts of bravery, and the human queen had appeared in the front yard, tearfully digging a small grave under the rose bushes and laying a heartbreakingly tiny cardboard box into the ground before covering it back up. Demeter had hidden in the neighboring yard with her mother and Roary, too cowardly to run over and say her final goodbyes to her baby's face, too scared to try and take the box from the human so that Aleyn could be buried properly beside her grandfather and all the other Jellicles, where she belonged. Now her daughter would rest here, far from home, in a strange box in a stranger's yard, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and sounds.<p>

The black and gold queen felt another wave of hysteria clawing up the back of her throat, and she took a deep, slow breath, trying to fight back the tears and wails and curses that would inevitably follow if she allowed her emotions to rule once more.

She heard her mother's soft, tentative footsteps behind her, felt the warmth and the strength of her.

"Demeter, my darling," her mother's voice was soft, softer than Demeter had ever heard it sound before. "We have to go."

"I can't leave her here."

"You have to, for now at least," Jellylorum was calm, soothing, taking control of the situation, taking care of everyone, as usual. "Minerva has agreed to dig up the box later on and bring it to the Yard. But we have to get back now. We've been gone too long as it is."

Demeter didn't respond, even though she knew her mother was right.

Jellylorum stepped forward again, wrapping her arm around her daughter's shoulders. Her voice was weighted, measured, hesitant, as if she feared somehow disturbing her daughter further, "You have to go home and tell your mate. You have to go home and take care of your other two kits."

"Two daughters," Demeter whispered, her voice harsh with tears. "Two daughters I have lost now. And both because of my mate."

Jellylorum didn't reply. She couldn't refute the statement—in all honestly, she agreed with the score—but she didn't want to stir up Demeter's anger. Now was a time for mourning, not for blaming and pointing fingers.

"Come," she turned and moved back towards the gate, where Roary was waiting with a worried expression. "It's time to go home."

Demeter reached forward, pressing her paw into the rich, dark earth, as if her warmth would radiate down to the little body that she knew was quietly curled up underneath. She had meant what she said—both of her daughters had been victims of their father, one of his cruelty and another of his pride. And upon both their souls, she would be avenged for this. She would be avenged if it took her own life, if it razed London to the ground, if it shattered the foundations of the world around them. Whatever had been left in her heart for this tom was now dead and cold, like her poor baby. She would not rest until he suffered for his crimes against her heart and her blood. And oh, would he suffer. He would suffer until death seemed like a sweet, peaceful release. He would suffer and cry for mercy, and he would know what it meant to betray his family, to betray the most precious gift he'd been given on this earth and had so foolishly tossed aside. He would suffer, and she would be avenged. There was no other way. The die had been cast. There was no other fate for them. Not now. Not ever.

* * *

><p><em><strong>*AN: Just FYI, The Blind Tiger (the name used in this chapter for Mac's most popular club) is actually a pub in my city-during the prohibition, it was a restaurant of a different name, and there was a speak-easy in the back, and the password was 'blind tiger'. Also home of some of the best onion rings and drunken Sunday night karaoke you will ever find. I'm not sure why I feel you need to know this, but you do. So now you do.***_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Tugger was having a bad day. Ever since Cassandra and Bombalurina were killed, he hadn't had a single day that he would classify as "good", but some days were better than others—sometimes the loss of Bombie didn't press like a stone on his chest, sometimes he didn't imagine that he heard Cass' short, sharp laugh echoing through the halls, sometimes he could almost make it through the day without breaking down in tears.

But today was not one of those better days. He'd awakened from dreams of Bombie—dreams of her laugh, her smile, her eyes, her touch—and he had been greeted by the familiar warmth of her scent still left on the pillow. He'd heard the others scampering on the roof as they set off on their morning run, and he thought of all the mornings spent racing across rooftops with the red queen, mornings and moments that would never come again. He'd heard them come back, heard the quick retorts between Etcetera and Pouncival, and he was reminded of Cassandra's witty banter, the snappy give-and-take that he'd enjoyed with Bombalurina, how she'd teased him so, dancing around the line that they almost didn't cross. The loft had been quiet for hours now, and he sensed it was an echo of his own heart—silent, cold, empty, devoid of life.

He'd spent the day in bed, clutching the pillow that still smelled like her, staring blindly ahead as his mind saw things that no longer existed—her cute, quizzical face peeking over the edge of the bunk bed, her long legs moving across the hardwood floors, her pristine posture as she sat preening in front of her mirror.

Tugger's gaze wandered to the mirror—Bomba's prize possession. Oh, what scenes of love that smooth, silver surface had reflected, what passion it had witnessed!

It was the only other survivor of their relationship. It was the only other thing that knew all that had happened, the only other witness to every step on their strange journey to love.

He didn't want any other survivors. He didn't want any other reminders.

In a sudden burst of fury, Tugger charged the offending glass, smashing it with his fists. The mirror shattered, sending tiny shards into his paws, but he didn't care.

Electra must have heard the sound, because soon Tugger felt the young queen, along with Mistoffelees and Pouncival, pulling him away from the glass, begging him to stop.

"Tugger, you'll hurt yourself!" Electra cried out.

Tugger stopped. He stared stupidly at the frame—for that was all that was left. The rest of the mirror's silver face was lying on the ground, reflecting a thousand tiny horrified expressions of the Rum Tum Tugger.

"Help me clean this up," Electra directed Pouncival. The young tom nodded, quickly running to the main room in search of a broom. Tugger sank against the wall, staring blankly at the mirror frame.

"Are you OK?" Electra gingerly inspected his paws, which were dusted with small shards of glass.

He looked at her, as if one woken from a dream. It was the first time that he'd actually seen the others since they'd returned to the loft after the battle (with the exception of Teaser), and he suddenly realized how much they'd all changed. Electra looked older; her face was drawn and there were shadows and lines that weren't there just two weeks ago.

"Tugger," Misto was beside him as well, his face filled with concern. He repeated Electra's question, "Are you OK?"

Mistoffelees looked younger, more vulnerable and kittenish. He needed to be protected, Tugger suddenly realized with a pang—Misto needed to be protected now that his mother was gone, and Tugger should have been the one protecting him, in honor of the love he held for Bombie. Tugger should have been the one beside him when he met Macavity; Tugger should have been the one letting Misto cry on his shoulder, comforting him over their mutual loss. He'd failed Bombalurina, yet again.

Tears filled his eyes. If he hadn't failed her the first time, she would be here now. He had been too busy with the fight, too busy trying to get Munku, and he hadn't even noticed that his lover had fallen. Perhaps he could have saved her—at the very least he could have taken the blow.

"Tugger." Electra's voice was harder now, more insistent. He simply nodded in response, and he felt her body relax with the knowledge that he hadn't been physically injured.

Pouncival was back, quietly sweeping away the shards of glass, which tumbled and tinkled over each other like wind chimes. With one last reassuring pat on Tugger's shoulder, Misto went to help Pounce, gingerly picking up the larger shards and tossing them into the tin can that served as their wastebasket, which Pouncival had brought in with the broom.

Cetty stood in the doorway throughout this entire scene, her feet firmly rooted to the spot. She'd never seen Tugger like this before—disheveled, broken, tears tracking down his face, so unlike the suave and handsome tom that had inhabited her fantasies for as long as she could remember. It was heartbreaking, staring at this stranger that seemed so similar to the tom she used to adore—the face was the same, but the spirit was gone. Cetty felt tears welling in her own eyes, tears for what used to be, tears for what would never be again, tears for all the changes and all the losses and all the little lights in his eyes that were gone.

"Cetty," Pouncival's voice softly brought her back to the present moment. She blinked back her tears and turned her attention to him. He pushed the tin can her way, "Can you take this out?"

She nodded and quietly made her way across the now-clean floor, grabbing the tin filled with broken glass and exiting. Misto followed behind her with the broom. Pouncival turned back to the now-empty frame with a heavy sigh, "I'll take this outside."

Tugger and Lecs did not respond, but Pounce hadn't really expected them to. With a deep breath, he lifted the frame and pulled it towards the door. As he did, something fell from the frame's back with the softest flutter of a sound. Tugger's ears pricked in curiosity. He sat up, his eyes zeroing in on the tiny object lying on the floor.

Electra watched with bated breath as Tugger slowly moved toward it. He gingerly picked up the object. It was a single, dried rose—the rose Tugger had plucked for Bombalurina during one of their fights.

In a wave of nostalgia, a memory suddenly filled Tugger's mind.

_He had been trying to pick the elusive-yet-beautiful rose, but had received a coat full of thorns. Rumpleteaser had seen him and asked what he was doing._

"_I'm picking flowers for Bombie." He had said. He had looked at the rose longingly, "The rose would be perfect, but I can't reach it."_

_Teaser had snorted disdainfully, "Perfect analogy fo' yore relationship, innit?"_

Tugger gave a sigh. It was a perfect analogy—for now he could no longer touch her; he could only reach and dream for a day when maybe, they would be together again. After all their nine lives were spent. But would he remember her? Or would she remember him? Tugger could only hope that his love for the red queen would transcend time.

She had kept the rose. The thought made Tugger smile. All this time, he had assumed that she had thrown the flowers away as soon as she had seen them. But in reality, the red queen had been unable to let go of the symbol of Tugger's devotion. If he had any doubts that she cared, this single, dried out, withered rosebud had proven her love.

Electra was still seated against the wall, but every muscle in her body strained, wanting to move across the space and make sure that he was alright. She couldn't read him, wasn't sure what was happening, and she fought back the urge to rush over and wrap him in her arms and whisper that everything would be alright, just so long as he didn't shut himself away again.

But when he turned back to her, there was a smile on his face—the softest, sweetest, saddest smile that Electra had ever seen, but still a smile. He held up the rose, as if it were an explanation in itself.

"I didn't know she'd kept it," he stated, his smile deepening. He was holding the withered blossom as if it were the most precious jewel in the universe.

Lecs wasn't sure where the rose came from, but she seemed to understand its significance to the maine coon—it was physical proof, something he could feel and hold and know that it had been real.

"She loved you very much," the dark queen spoke softly. She took a small step towards him, "No one could ever doubt that."

He simply nodded, turning the rose over in his paws, his face still filled with wonder.

It was the first time they'd spoken since the battle, and Electra wasn't going to let this chance pass by without at least trying to reach him again.

"It would break her heart to see you this way." Her voice was gentle, compassionate.

"I know," he replied softly. He finally looked up and met her gaze.

"We miss you."

"I know." Tears appeared in his eyes once more.

"Teaser thinks you're afraid that we'll blame you." She didn't say the rest, the reason for the blame, because they both knew.

Tugger gave a slight laugh, "Tease never could keep a secret."

She smiled, relieved that he hadn't been upset by the admission. She took another step closer, "We don't blame you for any of it, Tugger. These things...these things, they just happen. They happen and all we can do is learn how to live with them."

He nodded. She bit her lip and then plunged into the heart of it all.

"You can't stay in here, replaying every second and telling yourself all the things you could've-would've-should've done. It doesn't change anything. This is what has happened, and this is what we have to live with. But you don't have to do it alone. We're here. We're right here beside you."

"I know." He gave a sigh. "I know, you don't blame me, and deep down, I think I always knew. I just wasn't ready."

"You weren't ready to forgive yourself," she surmised. He nodded, looking back down at the rose.

"And now?"

He took a deep breath, turning the blossom over in his paws, "And now...I think I'm getting there."

A warm smile spread across Electra's dark features. "Good. Because we do miss you, you know."

He simply smiled in return. Electra gave him a light hug and moved back to the doorway, back to the others. She turned back to him and offered one last hopeful smile.

Tugger watched her leave before turning his attention back to the rose. He couldn't fight the wry smile that danced at the edge of his mouth as he thought of how typical it was for Bombalurina to hide the rose. She had been too prideful to allow him the small victory of knowing she'd liked a gift that he'd given—even in love, she refused to admit any form of defeat. The memory of their spars and their sparks sent another feeling of warmth through his heart. He looked back at the now-empty space on the wall. Breaking that mirror was perhaps the best thing that could have happened to him.

* * *

><p>Cetty cast a worried glance at Tugger's door as she entered the loft once more, "He's not hurt, is he?"<p>

"No, he's fine," Lecs gave a small smile of reassurance. She, too, turned her eyes to his door, which was still slightly ajar. "I think he's going to be OK."

Cetty knew Lecs meant that in more ways than one, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Pouncival and Misto appeared as well, and their guarded expressions told Lecs that they were wondering about Tugger, too.

"He's coming back to us," she said gently, and she felt a light surge in her heart as she realized that it was true. Whatever happened in that room had finally brought Tugger back to them—even if he didn't come out today, or even tomorrow, some bridge had been rebuilt, and he was surely on the path back home. And for now, that was enough.

* * *

><p>"Where's Leyni?" Munkustrap knew something was wrong the instant Demeter and the others walked back into the Junkyard.<p>

Demeter didn't answer; she merely pushed past her mate and disappeared into the den. Munku turned back to Jellylorum, searching for an answer, and as soon as he saw the pain in her face, he knew.

"She didn't make it, Munkustrap," Jellylorum said quietly.

His heart stopped for a full beat. He stepped back, as if he'd been punched in the stomach. Roary was beside him now, supporting him, keeping him upright.

"I did this." His voice was quiet, filled with solemn weight. "I did this to her. I waited too long."

He turned his gaze to Jellylorum, his eyes pleading for her to deny it, but she didn't, she couldn't. "I didn't listen to you. I should have—I should have listened. I should have—"

"It's over now," Jellylorum reached for him, gently stilling his shaking paw with her own. "Don't go down that road."

"I have to...I have to go to her," he turned towards the den, but again, Jellylorum stopped him.

"She needs to be alone right now."

He nodded in understanding, still too dazed to argue.

"Find the kits. They need to know."

He nodded again, but this time, he turned back to Jellylorum with questioning eyes. She understood and gave a small nod, "I'll tell them. But they'll still need their father."

Munkustrap blinked back more tears—Aleyn had needed her father, had needed him to be wise and trusting, had needed him to make the right decision, and he had failed her. His Leyni, his sweet, precocious, tiny, larger-than-life daughter.

"What happened?" He finally found his voice again.

"I'll tell you everything when we tell Deuteronomus and Catrice," she replied gently. She gave a heavy sigh. "I only want to have to tell this story once."

The tears began to flow freely as he nodded in understanding. Roary released him, letting him stand on his own feet. Jellylorum and Munkustrap walked away, and Roary stayed behind, wanting to follow but knowing it was not his place—this was not his family, he had no right to be a witness to something so intimate as their grief. Still, a part of him wished that he did have that right. He had spent years fighting and living alongside Jellylorum, and he'd always respected and admired her, but recently, he'd felt a shift in his feelings—now there was something deeper, something more than mere respect.

But for now, those feelings would have to be set aside. With a heavy heart, he turned towards Jellylorum's den, where he knew Teathrice and Notekins would be waiting. He still had sad news to deliver, and he knew Teathrice wouldn't take it well—she loved those kits like they were her own. He briefly considered not telling her until she was a little better, but he knew the shock and hurt of being kept in the dark would be worse than the initial grief of her loss. And Roary Huffersnuff prided himself on being a straight-shooter. Still, he knew he was leaving pain in his wake, and he hated to stand so helplessly by as the two most important queens in his life mourned. There was no worse feeling in the world, knowing the ones you loved were hurting and knowing you had absolutely no way to ease the pain.

* * *

><p>It was a quiet night. The sea was still and the wind was blowing gently, just strong enough to push the sails forward. Despite this peace and silence, Jemima's head and heart were whirling with noise and fear. Since she'd been ripped from sleep by the horrible foreboding, her mind and body had pulsed with one single, urgent thought: <em>I must get back home<em>.

She'd been unable to concentrate all day. The rest of the crew had noticed her dazed state and had kindly gone out of their way to take care of most her duties. That evening at dinner, Bill Bailey had given her something to drink, something dark and acrid that burned her throat and made her eyes water, but she'd drank it without question and without fuss because she understood what it could do for her, and she needed that. He had refilled her cup every time she emptied it, and she would empty it as soon as she could. She'd never drank alcohol before, and she knew it was a decision that she would regret later on, but for now it fought back the wave of desperation in her throat and kept the screaming inside her mind to a dull whisper.

But now she was above deck, alone in the dark cool night, and those feelings were starting to resurface. The primal, incoherent beating in her head spoke of fears without name, shadows without form, and more than anything, she feared knowing—knowing what event had caused such havoc in her spirit, knowing for whom she felt this dread, knowing the truth beneath the lump in her stomach and the panic in her chest. All she knew was that something terrible had happened. And though her entire being was filled with the need to know exactly what it was, her entire being also dreaded knowing.

"You should be below decks," Brim's soft voice seemed to shatter the stillness. She turned to face him, and she knew the pull that she felt beneath her skin was not from the fear or the alcohol.

"You're not well," he spoke again, moving closer.

"I'm drunk," she replied flatly.

"Yes, you are." The corner of Brim's mouth quirked into a smile.

"Do you know why I'm drunk?"

"Because you drank too much."

Now it was Jemima's turn to smile. It was the first time that she'd ever heard Captain Brim crack a joke, and she was both surprised and amused by his sense of humor. But these feelings did not last long—she turned back to the water with a sorrowful expression, "I swore I'd never go back. And I thought I would never want to go back. But now, that's all I want, more than anything else in the world...I don't want it, really, but I need it. I _need_ to go back, so this feeling can go away."

She shook her head slowly, sadly, muttering to herself, "I promised Mother that I'd never go back."

"Just because you're going back doesn't mean that you'll have to stay," he reminded her.

She turned to him, a sad smile on her lips, "You don't know how this works, do you? If I go back and the others know I'm alive, then my father will force me to stay. I'll be trapped again."

"Surely he wouldn't—"

"Surely he would." Jemima's tone was so certain, so final, that Brim didn't argue any further. She looked back at the stars, and she began to hum a Jellicle tune, trying to push away the dark thoughts.

"Jemima?"

"Hmm?"

"You're drunk."

"I am," she agreed with a grin.

"You really ought to be below deck."

She turned back to him, this handsome tom with his grey coat shining silver in the moonlight, with his serious air and kind ways. And perhaps because she was drunk, or perhaps because she wanted to feel something else besides fear and dread, or perhaps simply because she was past the point of caring, she didn't stop the words that came out of her mouth.

"Then why don't you take me? Why don't you take me below deck?" Her tone was low, almost a purr, the same way she'd heard Bombalurina whisper to other toms in the yard. She was shocked at her own forwardness, shocked at how grown-up she sounded, shocked at the fact that she was saying something like that to any tom at all, much less a tom she barely knew. More than anything, she was shocked by the fact that he didn't pull away.

However, his expression was stern as he gently tried to guide her back to the cabins, "Jemima. It's time to go—"

"Oh, c'mon, Captain," she pulled away, motioning back to the velvet night sky. "It's such a beautiful night. Who wants to be inside?"

"Jemima, you are drunk—"

"You've mentioned that several times—"

"You could easily stumble over the railing and fall into the water, at which point you would drown because _you are drunk_." His words were quick and harsh, and Jemima stopped. She simply stared at him. He knew that he'd hurt her with this tone, speaking to her as if she was still some stupid little kit, but saints in Heaviside, he was right—he'd seen it happen before, and he'd be damned if he let it happen to her. Still, knowing he was right didn't ease the sudden tightness that he felt in his chest at the sight of her crestfallen expression.

This was why Brim was careful with his words—he knew that they held such mighty power, the power to hurt, the power to heal, and he always took the time to think before he spoke, to measure and weight his words so that they would be a pain to no cat. He prided himself on being self-controlled, on being thoughtful and contained. And yet, here he was, speaking before he'd fully considered it, hurting a cat with his words—and not just any cat, but Jemima. He wasn't sure why he thought of her as some special rank all her own, but he did. Perhaps because she was the only one who made him uncertain, who made him speak without thinking, who shook him up in ways that he didn't fully understand.

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

"No," she shook her head. "You're right."

And even though he knew that he was right, it saddened him to hear her say it like that, with her eyes now dark and devoid of spark, when just moments ago they were shining with laughter and playfulness.

"I just don't want to go to sleep," she said quietly. "I don't want to have those dreams again."

He nodded, because he understood. Suddenly, she grimaced and moved to the railing, promptly vomiting over the side of the ship. He moved towards her, gently rubbing her back as she shook from fatigue and illness and a deep fear that seemed to radiate from her body.

"We can stay up here," he whispered, and he felt her breathe a sigh of relief.

"You'll keep me from falling over the railing to my watery grave?" She asked dryly, and he saw a hint of amusement in her eyes.

"I'll try," he couldn't help but smile in relief. Here was the Jemima he knew, the one with the wit and the spark in her eyes. He never wanted to see the sad-faced queen that had stood in her place just a few moments ago.

She was sick again, and he merely held her shoulders—this wasn't the first time he'd had to nurse a cat through the brutal effects of too much alcohol, and he knew the worst was yet to come. It was going to be a long night indeed.

* * *

><p>Munkustrap slowly crept into the den, where Demeter was already sleeping. Jellylorum was taking care of Deuteronomus and Catrice for the night; their sad kitten eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life. They didn't fully understand it all—they knew their sister was dead, but the permanence of it was still something that they didn't fully quite grasp. They simply couldn't imagine a life without Aleyn, because they'd never known a single day without her.<p>

His mate woke when he curled up beside her, shifting away. He lightly touched her shoulder, noticing how her muscles tensed at his touch, "Dem?"

"She's gone, Munkustrap. There's nothing left to say about it." Her voice was flat, but there was a harder edge to it that he didn't miss.

"I'm so sorry," he broke, his tears refreshing themselves again, running freely down his cheeks. "If only I had listened—this is all my fault."

Demeter sat up, moving away from him. She didn't look at him, but he could make out her profile in the dim moonlight seeping through the opening of their den.

"Yes. This is all your fault."

Without another word, she stood and walked out of the den. Munkustrap had the sudden sinking realization that he'd lost more than his youngest daughter today.

* * *

><p>Cetty looked up at the waning moon, taking a deep breath and soaking up the silence. This was the one moment of the day when she could simply sit and think, and it had become her own sacred ritual, climbing onto the roof and staring at the moon. She remembered all the stories her mother told her, under this very same moon—stories of great and brave Jellicle warriors, of wise queens and handsome toms from times long past, stories of sadness and joy, of triumph and defeat. She wondered if one day, she would have her own kits to tell stories underneath this moon. She thought of the stories she would tell them—not tales of time gone by, but tales of brave warriors and wise souls who were writing those stories right now. She would tell them of their struggle, of their fight, of their hope amidst their tragedy.<p>

She felt a lump in her throat at the thought that she might not survive to tell such tales. The rebels could lose, and their story would be lost forever, trampled and mangled and rewritten by the victors, making them monsters and deviants and villains of the worst sort. She knew the truth—the only monster was the one who led the faithful Jellicles—and she knew that she would fight with every last breath to make sure that was how history remembered him. She would fight so that in the end, the truth would survive. If that was her only reason for living, that would be enough.

There was a small sound of movement behind her and a few seconds later, Electra appeared at her side. They exchanged soft smiles before turning their faces back to the moon.

"Long day," Cetty commented.

"Long day," Lecs agreed.

"You know what I was just thinking about?"

"What?"

"What I would tell my kits about all of this," Cetty gestured back to the loft. "Or if I'd even get the chance to have kits."

"I've never really thought about having kittens," Lecs admitted.

"Really?" Cetty sat up curiously. "Why not?"

Her friend shrugged, "I dunno. They just never seemed in the cards for me. I never thought any tom could love me enough to spend his life with me, and I couldn't imagine having kits on my own."

"You're using the past tense," Cetty pointed out. "What about now?"

"Now?" Lecs took a deep breath. She shook her head. "Now, I don't know."

"Are you saying you think someone _could_ love you like that?" Cetty couldn't keep the teasing from her tone. She'd seen how Misto and Lecs acted around one another, and she felt that her suspicions were about to be confirmed.

"Well, maybe." Lecs didn't look at her friend. Despite knowing that her next statement would cause her no end of grief from Cetty's prying ways, she added, "I think I could love someone like that."

Surprisingly, her friend did not shoot back a taunt or ask her for more details or demand a name. Cetty simply smiled in understanding.

"I used to feel that way about Tugger," she admitted softly. With a wry smile, she remembered her feverish excitement over the maine coon, "But I don't think that was really love, not really—it was some kind of obsessive kittenish crush."

"You don't still feel that way about him?" The surprise was evident in Electra's voice.

"No. Not really." Cetty sighed. "I think all that time being away from him, all that time living in fear of Munkustrap, just took that part away from me. When I saw him at the yard, before the battle, I felt something, but it wasn't the feeling I used to have. It was relief—I was so relieved that you all were still alive, that I had a chance to escape and be with you. And when we first came back, I thought maybe those feelings would start again, and in some small ways, they did. But after today, I realized it would never be the same."

Electra nodded in agreement.

"He's changed," Cetty continued morosely. "I always thought life with Tugger would be fun, a grand adventure. But—"

"But you were disappointed," Lecs finished. Cetty nodded sadly. Lecs sighed, "He was a fun and carefree cat, once. Before the exile, before he became the leader of the Rebels, before the deaths of Cass and Bombie. Time has changed him, Cetty."

"Perhaps time has changed me, too," Cetty mused quietly.

"Perhaps," Lecs agreed softly. "And perhaps you need to accept that and move on."

"I think I have," her friend admitted, turning to her with a small smile. "Or at least I think I'm starting to."

Electra reached over and gave Cetty's paw a reassuring squeeze. "We're all still here. Things are different, but we're all still here. And I'll always be here, because you're my friend, and you will be my friend until the day I die."

Cetty silently prayed that day would be long into the future. Lecs seemed to read her thoughts, because she pulled her into a hug, "Don't go getting all emotional on me, Cetts. We're gonna win this thing, and we're both gonna be alive and well when we do."

"You really think so?" Cetty pulled back, her eyes filled with hope and fear.

"Yes." Lecs answered. "That's how we have to think. It's the only way we can, if we really want to end this."

Etcetera nodded in agreement, mentally pushing away her negative thoughts.

"Ladies!" Pouncival's voice rang out from across the roof. They turned towards him. He wore a grin that seemed to light up the night, "Rum Tum Tugger's in the main room. He's asking to be fully briefed on the events of the past few weeks. We need everybody in on this one."

The two queens exchanged looks of joy and surprise.

"Is he really, Pounce?" Lecs moved to him, barely containing her excitement.

"He's back, Lecs," Pounce grabbed her, hugging her tightly. "He's finally come back to us."

Lecs let out a whoop of joy, and Cetty began to laugh as Pounce grabbed Electra and swung her around in a little dance of happiness. He set the dark queen down and took Cetty's paw, twirling her around as well. Then Lecs grabbed them both, wrapping them in a group hug.

"It's all gonna be OK," Pounce whispered happily. "We're all gonna be OK."

For the first time, Cetty truly felt like she belonged with the rebels, and for the first time, she believed the words of assurance. They were a family again, like they were back in the yard when they were kits. Families held each other together, families pushed through the darkness to the other side, families survived. They were going to survive.

"Can't keep 'em waiting," Pounce moved back to the edge, giving one last smile over his shoulder as he swung himself into the window below. Cetty followed him, and Electra took one last look at the moon with a contented smile. She walked towards the edge, back to her home, back to the place that held all that she loved and held dear in this world. Slowly, they were rebuilding their lives—and every step felt like its own victory.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Teathrice was crying again. She'd cried when Roary had told her the news; she'd cried intermittently throughout the day; she'd cried in her sleep; she'd cried when she was awake. Not that anyone could blame her—she had been like a second mother to Demeter's kits, and she'd always been particularly fond of Aleyn.

Since the grey queen was still recovering in Jellylorum's den, Jellylorum had taken Deuteronomus and Catrice to stay in Roary's den for the night. Tumblebrutus was on night watch, and he'd come by to check on Teathrice, but when he heard her sobs, he stopped outside the entrance, unsure of what to do. He didn't know if he should go in and comfort her, or if he should go away and let her grieve in peace. Before he could make a decision, he heard movement from inside, heard the soft sounds of another cat comforting the grey queen.

"I thought we'd had enough." Teathrice's voice was raw from her crying. "I thought surely the darkness was over."

"Me, too." Another voice spoke, and Tumble instantly recognized it as Notekins'.

"What have we done to deserve this?" The grey queen asked plaintively. "Why are we being punished like this?"

There was a heavy sigh. Tumble knew that Notekins was trying to find the right words to say. He also knew that he shouldn't be standing here, listening to this conversation, and yet, he couldn't walk away—perhaps because part of him asked these very same questions, needed these very same answers.

"We aren't being punished, Tea," Notekins spoke softly, gently. "These things happen."

"These things happen?" Teathrice's voice became angry, harsh, gutteral. "We lose our home, our heir goes missing, cats are injured and dying everyday, and all you can say is 'these things happen'?"

"They do, Teathrice." Notekins remained surprisingly calm. "And it isn't because of karma or fate or not praying enough to the saints in Heaviside. It is simply because that's what happens. Life happens."

There was some movement, and Tumble guessed that Teathrice was turning away from Notekins, away from the words that brought her no comfort.

"I'm not saying it isn't bad. I'm not saying I'm not hurting," Notekins' voice broke, and for the first time, Tumblebrutus heard the emotion in it. "Because I am hurting, Tea. I'm hurting for our losses, for all our losses; I'm hurting for you and for the parents of that sweet little kit. I'm hurting and I'm angry and I feel the injustice of it just like you, and it would be so much easier if there was something or someone to blame, but there isn't. It's just what happens."

"You're wrong," Teathrice's voice was flat, but the anger was still there, just beneath the surface. "There is someone to blame."

"Don't go there." Notekins' voice held a warning.

"You know I'm right—"

"I know you're right, but I also know that kind of talk can get you executed for treason."

There was a pause. Tumblebrutus felt his stomach turn to lead as he held his breath, waiting for the next word.

Teathrice spoke, "So you do admit that I'm right."

There was something in that statement, some kind of strange peace-offering that Tumble couldn't quite describe. It was something that was a part of their relationship as Elders, working together for the greater good, despite personal differences. He could hear that Teathrice had understood Notekins' message, that she'd accepted the fact that she could never say such things again, that she acknowledged his wisdom.

"You are right." Notekins' voice was soft. Tumble knew that this was his way of accepting her acknowledgement, his way of conceding some ground to her in a fight that he'd obviously won.

There was another pause. Tumble could almost feel the shift in the atmosphere as the two cats quietly collected themselves.

"So, who is handling the funeral arrangements?" Just like that, they had changed the subject, and things were going along as if nothing had happened. Tumblebrutus quietly slipped away, his mind still trying to process everything that he'd overheard. He knew that Notekins' words were true—if Teathrice continued with this line of diatribe, she would be accused of treason. Really, it didn't take much to be accused of such; one just had to have an opinion that differed from the Jellicle Leaders. Still, if the wrong cat overheard her words, it could spell trouble for the grey queen.

His mind went back to one of the last conversations that he ever had with Etcetera—she'd told him what had happened to Jennyanydots and Skimbleshanks after Munkustrap had caught them deserting the Tribe. Part of him still didn't believe it; he couldn't believe that Munkustrap was that cruel or that vindictive or that Macavity's henchrats were somehow now working for the Jellicle Leader. If he were truly honest with himself, it wasn't that he couldn't believe Munku's capacity for evil, but rather that he didn't want to believe his own role in their deaths. If Munkustrap wasn't capable of such unspeakable horrors, then Tumblebrutus wasn't culpable for betraying Jenny and Skimble's plans. He couldn't believe it because he couldn't admit his part in the macabre drama that Cetty had constructed in her over-imaginative mind.

Still...the way Roary, Notekins, and Teathrice spoke to one another, their cryptic asides that Tumble had picked up over the past few days, had pricked something in the back of the young tom's mind. He felt that there was more to the story than the things he had been told by Munkustrap and the other Jellicles—perhaps there was some truth in Cetty's tale. Perhaps the Elders knew more than they were telling. Perhaps he had been apart of something darker and deadlier than he ever imagined. Perhaps he had truly led the executioner straight to the frightened lambs.

Tumblebrutus shuddered and sent up a quick prayer to Heaviside that it wasn't true. If it true, he wasn't sure he could live with the knowledge of what he'd done. Despite his prayer, he couldn't dispel the sinking feeling that it was very, very true. Very horribly, horrifically, damnably true.

* * *

><p>Jemima tried to open her eyes and felt a searing stab as she was instantly blinded by the sunlight streaming through the window. With a groan, she turned away from the light, but the movement sent another wave of nausea rolling through her head. She reached forward blindly, her paws finding a spittoon into which she immediately threw up. Feeling slightly better, she squinted as she looked around the room.<p>

This wasn't her room. She wasn't in her hammock with Katya and Dina sleeping peacefully nearby. This room was larger, with nicer furniture, but not particularly elaborate or luxurious. There was a wooden crate turned over to make a desk, covered in maps, with a sextant.

She was in Captain Brim's quarters.

She couldn't remember how she'd gotten there. Or what had happened once she got there.

_Oh, Bast. This can't be good_.

* * *

><p>"Roise and shoine, puddy-tats!" Rumpleteaser's voice rang out, echoing through the halls and effectively jolting the others awake.<p>

Cetty stared at the bunk above her for a moment, taking a deep breath as she mentally prepared for the day ahead. She'd been right when she told Electra that her feelings for Tugger had changed—last night, he'd talked with them, had even made a few jokes and smiled, but it was a mere shade of the tom in her imagination. Now it hurt to look at him, to think of the cat that she had thought he was and realize that he was nothing like her idealized version of himself. It was the death of her kittenhood dream, and despite knowing that it was for the best, Cetty couldn't deny the sense of loss that she felt. It was the final piece of her innocence that caved away, and it was the part that made her truly understand that their world had irrevocably changed.

Lecs jumped from the top bunk, landing beside her. "Ready to roll?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," she answered, pulling herself out of bed.

The others, Tugger included, were already waiting in the main room. Tugger's face was solemn.

"Mistoffelees and Electra, you will not be joining us on the morning run," he announced, looking back at Teaser and Mungojerrie in confirmation. He turned back to Misto, "Macavity has asked that you begin training with him, so that he can teach you to better control and strengthen your powers, which we will certainly need in the coming days. And Electra, he has specifically asked that you accompany Misto as an escort."

The tuxedo tom simply nodded, his gaze flicking over to Lecs, who gave him a reassuring smile. They still hadn't talked about what had happened on the way back from The Blind Tiger—they really hadn't had a moment alone to talk about anything since then. However, neither acted strangely towards the other, and each took it as a good sign.

Tugger motioned for the others to head to the roof, Teaser and Mungo exchanging small smiles as their leader stepped back into his rightful role. They were good lieutenants; they could be leaders when they had to be, but they preferred not to shoulder the burden of being in-charge. It wasn't considered a loss at all when Tugger took back over his responsibilities. It was the way things were meant to be, and that was the way they preferred it.

"Be careful," Tugger warned, taking a moment to look them both in the eye. He reached out to give Misto's shoulder a gentle squeeze, and the young tom understood all the things that were still too painful for Tugger to say—that Bombalurina would have wanted this, that she would have been pleased to see her son finally reunited with his father, working together for the common good, that Tugger wanted him to be safe.

The maine coon turned back to the window and the other two rebels went to the door. Misto quietly fell into step with Electra as they went down the stairs.

"Talk about an eventful twenty-four hours," the dark queen commented, and Misto hummed in agreement.

"Something tells me that this is just the tip of the iceberg."

"What do you mean?" She glanced over at him quizzically.

He shrugged, his gaze still concentrated on the steps before him. "I don't know, really. I just have a sense that something's about to happen. Something big."

"What could be bigger than what's happening now?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

_***A/N: Voila le chapitre final! Many thanks to all who reviewed and encouraged me throughout the process, and to those brave Chickadees who've stuck with the story for so long.***_

Victoria gingerly made her way down the sloped hood of the TSE car, landing lightly on her paws as she took the small leap from the bumper to the ground. Her paw instantly went to her abdomen, but she caught herself, looking around quickly to make sure that no one had noticed.

_You're going to have to tell someone soon_. The little voice inside her head prompted, and she knew it was right. She couldn't keep her secret much longer.

Of course, Plato should be the first to hear the joyous news. But something held her back—perhaps because she wasn't sure if it would be considered joyous news. It had been almost two years now since Plato had chosen her for the mating dance, and since then, they'd lived and acted as mates, although there had never been a formal ceremony, the Jellicle binding of their two souls into one union. He'd said it was because she was too young and he didn't want to take away her chance to have fun in her youth. She felt that he really meant the opposite—he didn't want _her_ taking away _his_ chance to have fun. Although he had been faithful to her, she still felt that it was simply because he hadn't been presented with the right opportunity to be unfaithful.

And there was the fact that if Mistoffelees were to walk back into the Junkyard this very moment, she would run into his arms faster than the speed of light. Perhaps Plato sensed this, and that was why he didn't fully commit to her—because he knew that as long as Misto was alive, she could never fully commit to him.

Regardless of their lack of commitment, Victoria knew that Plato deserved to be the first to know about the impending birth of their kit or kittens. She hadn't felt any movement yet, so she wasn't sure if it was just a single babe or a litter. That was the surprise of motherhood—you never really knew until you gave birth. Victoria was praying that there wasn't anymore than three.

There had been a moment of panic when she had first realized that she was pregnant—she was too young, she didn't know anything about raising a kit, she wasn't officially and legally bound to Plato as his mate, the world was too uncertain, the yard was still in shambles and no place to give birth and raise kittens, they'd never discussed starting a family, did Plato even want kits?—and since then, she'd been mentally holding her breath, as if she expected some other horrible fate to fall upon her. The death of little Aleyn had only intensified her fears. She'd been so upset and shaken by the news, and suddenly she realized how fragile motherhood was, how uncertain and filled with love and worry and hoping your offspring would always be safe from harm. She didn't have the stamina to survive such worry, the panic every time her kitten would fall from a tree or the pain every time it would have its heart broken. And yet, here she was, being drafted into this world before she could even realize that it was something she wanted to avoid with every fiber of her being.

Her fear and her reluctance did not change the fact that she was well on her way to becoming a mother. She didn't have any memories of her own mother, but she'd seen plenty of examples during her lifetime, and they had all impressed upon her the idea of self-sacrifice, of a love beyond all understanding, of a devotion stronger than life itself. She didn't that she was capable of such—she was a vain, petty, selfish kit, how could she suddenly become the exact opposite simply by giving birth?

Despite her qualms, she promised herself that she would not be like her own mother and abandon her kittens. She would be there, through thick and thin, swallowing her fears and pushing ahead, because that was all that she could do. The first fear to be conquered was telling the father of her unborn kits that he was, in fact, going to be a father. With a deep breath and a shallow prayer, she began to look for Plato.

* * *

><p>The little cardboard box wasn't heavy, but it was still cumbersome for two cats to navigate, especially when they were trying not to be seen by humans. Still, Minerva and Sybil had completed their mission and stood at the entrance of the Jellicle Junkyard, looking around with wide eyes.<p>

"It's nothing like I imagined it would be," Sybil admitted.

"Jellylorum said there was a fire. They're still rebuilding."

"They don't have much to work with," Sybil gave a light flick of her tail, which for some reason irritated Minerva, who opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by the arrival of a handsome black and white tom.

"May I help you?" He stepped forward, his brow furrowed in concern.

"I am Minerva and this is Sybil." The tortoiseshell nodded towards her companion. "We came to deliver the body of Demeter's daughter."

"Oh," the tom's expression softened. "You've brought Aleyn home."

His voice was sad, lined with compassion, and Minerva immediately wanted to hug him, for she could hear the pain in his tone.

"I am Alonzo," he shook both queens' paws. "Thank you for everything—for getting her to the vet, for bringing her back—"

"Of course," Minerva gave a small smile.

Alonzo motioned back to the yard, "I'll go get the others. Wait here."

He hurried off, and the two queens exchanged uncertain looks. They really didn't want to a human to walk by and catch them sitting on the sidewalk with a box containing the body of a dead kitten, and the longer they had to wait, the greater that risk became.

However, Alonzo returned quickly, and this time he brought Roary Huffersnuff, whom Sybil and Minerva recognized immediately. Behind them came another tom, broad shoulders slumped underneath some invisible weight, handsome despite the tired lines in his face. His black and silver coat shone in the morning sun, and his bearing was that of a king. Though they had never met him, they knew who he must be.

Roary and Alonzo stood at either end of the box, which Sybil and Minerva had shifted away from, but they didn't lift it yet. The silver tom softly laid his paw on the cover, taking a deep breath before turning back to the two queens.

"Thank you," he said quietly, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"You're welcome," Sybil replied, her tone just as soft as his. She stepped forward timidly, "I was with her, in the end. Her last wish was that you would not be saddened by her passing."

A bittersweet smile spread across the tom's face, "That sounds like my Leyni."

With a slight nod to Alonzo and Roary, he signaled for them to take the box into the yard. As the two toms carried Aleyn away, he turned back to Sybil and Minerva.

"You have the gratitude of the Jellicle Tribe, as well as the grateful thanks of a father."

The two queens nodded. Minerva offered one last small smile, "Tell Demeter that we are thinking of her."

The mention of Demeter brought a strange change in the tom, but he quickly recovered, nodding and turning to leave.

Sybil waited until they were a block away before she finally spoke, "He's just as fine a figure as his father was, don't you think?"

"I never met Old Deuteronomy, so I wouldn't know."

"Well, I never met him, either, but I've heard many a tale about him," Sybil admitted. "And Munkustrap seems just as striking a figure as every description I ever heard about Deuteronomy."

"Yes," Minerva mused. "Striking."

Many years later, the two queens would tell other house cats of how they'd played a small role in the Jellicle Revolution, though they were unaware of their part in the grand drama until long after it was over and done.

* * *

><p>It was afternoon by the time Jemima was well enough to leave the captain's quarters. The rest of the crew simply gave her small smiles of understanding—they'd all had their share of hellish hangovers. No one asked what happened. Jemima was grateful for that, especially since she didn't know for sure herself.<p>

Brim was at the wheel, calmly surveying the horizon. She felt a rush of heat as she thought about what could have happened last night—and a slight twinge of regret for the fact that if it did happen, she couldn't even remember it. More than anything, she feared that her actions the previous evening (at least the ones she could remember) had made Brim realize that she was flighty and undependable, and perhaps he had decided that he no longer wanted her on as crew.

She stood quietly beside him, not sure of how to broach the subject. Thankfully, he spared her the embarrassment.

"You were too ill to stay below deck, so I let you stay in my quarters," his voice was low, matter-of-fact, emotionless. "Nothing happened."

She felt a rush of relief. "Thank you. I...I couldn't remember much, and I...I wasn't sure—"

He turned to her, and for the first time, Jemima saw compassion in his amber eyes, "You never need to fear when you are around me, Jemima. I would never take advantage of any queen in such a state."

"I see." Somehow, his words had made her sound completely undesirable. It stung, even though she knew that she should be grateful for his morals.

"Although," he added, his tone suddenly warmer, almost playful. "I must admit that if you weren't quite so far gone, I might have been tempted."

Jemima couldn't control the blush that burned her cheeks, but it wasn't an unwelcome feeling, so she retorted, her own tone filled with amusement, "'Might have been tempted', Captain? Are you saying you weren't tempted at all by my drunken brashness and unrivaled grace? After seeing me toss my cookies into the sea, I'm surprised you could contain yourself."

This earned her a laugh—a true, deep laugh that she'd never heard from him—and any chagrin that still lingered was fully lifted as she laughed with him, relieved that he shared her sense of humor.

"I do apologize, though," she became serious once more. "What little I do remember, I know I wasn't at my sparkling best."

"You don't have to be," he replied softly. "Not with me."

Those words struck something deep inside of Jemima, a small tremor of warmth that no other cat had ever created in her. She knew that they were suddenly very close to the edge of something, and she both dreaded and anticipated the fall.

"Perhaps you would like to have dinner with me," he turned his gaze back to the horizon, as if he feared seeing her reaction. "Once we have reached port."

"I would like that very much," Jemima was well aware that she was grinning like a silly little kit, but she didn't care.

Brim looked at her again, and he was smiling, too. He suddenly looked much younger, and Jemima secretly wished that she had known him when he was still a baby-faced kit, that she had known the impulsive and daring young tom that she was certain he used to be.

His expression softened again, "Dina has taken over your duties for the day. Go and get some rest. We'll be back in London soon."

It was the mention of London sparked the feeling of fear within Jemima again, and she realized that no matter what happened, she would have to return to the yard and face whatever ill had befallen her family.

"I don't think I'll be able to rest," she admitted quietly.

Brim nodded in understanding. He looked up at the crow's nest, where Dina was already installed. "Well, I don't think I'd recommend you taking on any heights in your current state, but the deck could use a good swabbing."

Jemima made a small salute and flashed a small, grateful smile as she headed back to the main deck. Brim had understood that she wanted to be kept too busy to think about what lay ahead, and she welcomed the break from her thoughts.

For the rest of the day, she could sense him watching her—although he wasn't hovering, he was always within eyesight—and her heart would smile at the realization of his quiet attentions. She had never been courted by a tom before, but his little gestures of caring were worth more than any flowers or sonnets she could receive. They were quiet and reserved, just like Brim, and they suited him more than poems or fancy gifts. She took them for the tokens that they were meant to be, and cherished them all the more.

The sun was beginning to dip into the ocean by the time they reached port. She sensed Brim approaching before she heard the light pad of his paws on the wooden deck. He stood beside her for a moment before speaking, "Are you recovered enough to meet our client?"

She nodded, squinting in the late afternoon light. "Now's a good of a time as any."

"Good." Brim gave a curt nod. "I think he'll be quite interested in meeting you."

"What makes you say that?"

"You'll see."

* * *

><p>"Easy does it," Tumblebrutus coached, gently helping Teathrice take her first steps out of Jellylorum's den. Her left foreleg was still too injured to hold any weight, so she hobbled on three legs, leaning her shoulder against Tumble's for support.<p>

"Oh, the air feels glorious," she breathed a sigh of relief, turning her face to the sky.

"Well, if you want to feel more of it, you can't tell Tantomile that I let you out," the young tom joked, and Teathrice smiled at the comment. "She worries over you like a mother hen."

"She's a good friend," the grey queen smiled softly. Her expression turned to a worried frown, "Speaking of Tanto, where is she? I haven't seen her since this morning."

"Aleyn's body was delivered back to the yard this morning," Tumble admitted, bracing himself for what might come. Surprisingly, Teathrice merely gave a heavy sigh, shaking her head in sadness. The young tom continued, "They interred her next to Old Deuteronomy. And then Munkustrap called for a meeting of the Elders this evening."

"I should be there," Teathrice said quietly. "I should have been there for all of it—for Aleyn's return, for her burial, for the meeting. I should have been there."

The regret in her voice was evident. Now it was Tumble's turn to sigh, "You were in no condition to do any of those things. They know that; they understand."

"I know," she replied, looking down at her crippled leg. "Still, it doesn't keep me from feeling that I should have been there."

He simply nodded, because he understood. He felt that way about Electra and Etcetera—they were both headstrong queens, both capable of handling themselves and making their own decisions, and yet, Tumblebrutus felt like he should have done something to stop them from leaving. He should have been a better friend; he should have made them feel safer; he should have spent more time with them; he should have seen the signs and done whatever he could to prevent them from leaving. These things he knew that he could not change, and yet his mind recited this litany of coulda-woulda-shouldas on a constant loop.

"I am tired, Tumblebrutus," Teathrice broke the silence that had fallen between them. "I am so very tired of tragedy."

* * *

><p>"Are you sure?" Plato's eyes were filled with wonder as they traveled to Victoria's stomach.<p>

"Yes." She bit her lip, held her breath, waited for whatever may come.

He smiled. He gave a slight laugh. Then he looked at her face, as if he, too, were waiting to gauge her reaction. For a moment, they simply stared at one another, both anxious and unsure.

"We're gonna be parents," he whispered.

"We're gonna be parents," she agreed, and now a smile spread across her face. He smiled again as well, pulling her closer and wrapping her into a hug. Victoria felt her worries melt away under the warmth of his affection. He wasn't going to abandon her.

He pulled back, a smile still on his face, "How long?"

"Not very long at all," she admitted. "I thought maybe I was pregnant, before the fire, but a few days after we were back in the yard, I knew for sure."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I...I was afraid that you wouldn't be pleased," she admitted softly, suddenly aware of how foolish such a thought seemed.

"Of course I'm pleased!" He gushed. Then his expression became serious, "You're happy about it, too, right? I mean, this is what you want, isn't it?"

In that moment, she felt a rush of affection for this tom—his concern for her happiness was touching.

"Yes, of course," she reached out and gently cupped his face in her paw. "This is what I've always wanted."

But deep down, the little voice whispered in her heart, _But not like this. Not with you._

* * *

><p>"Now, concentrate. Try to visualize pushing your energy straight through your arms and out through your claws," Macavity stood beside his son, extending his own paws towards the wall. Misto mimicked his stance. Macavity gave a slight nod of approval. "Good. Now, aim."<p>

Misto turned his attention to the wooden crate that was placed a few meters away, waiting quietly on the concrete floor of the hangar.

From her perch safely atop the stairs leading to the main office, Electra held her breath as she watched Misto's brow furrow in concentration. She saw blue sparks begin to prick off his claws, and then a single beam shot out and obliterated the crate. Misto and Macavity ducked to avoid being hit by the flying shards of wood.

The young tom looked around at the remains of the crate, which were lying around the room. He let out a victorious whoop, "I did it!"

He turned back to Lecs, "Didja see that?!"

The dark queen laughed at his enthusiasm, letting out a cheer as well. Macavity was grinning from ear to ear as he gave his son a congratulatory pat on the back.

"Good work. Now, do it again."

They practiced several more times before Macavity decided that Mistoffelees had mastered the skill.

"Let's move on to dueling."

"What?" Misto blanched.

Macavity moved in front of him. "You need to be trained in paw-to-paw combat. You aren't the only mystic out there, and you certainly won't be the only mystic in the Jellicle Junkyard."

Noting his son's worried expression, his face softened, "I'm just going to show you how to ward off blows, Misto. Basic defense."

This eased the young tom's fears slightly, and he nodded, taking a step back and assuming a defensive stance.

"Your paws are always your best weapon," Macavity began. He opened his stance, inviting Misto to take aim at him, "Go ahead, try to zap me."

Misto was reluctant, but he extended his paws towards his father, giving a slight cringe as he released another blue beam straight at his father's chest.

Macavity barely flicked his left paw, as if waving away a fly, and there was a strange, almost metallic clink as the beam reflected to the side, zapping an overhead light instead. The light bulb burst and a few sparks shot out, causing Lecs to give a small yelp of surprise as she covered her head with her paws.

"See?" Macavity grinned. Misto gave a sigh of relief.

"Again." Macavity commanded. Misto obeyed. Again, there was a light flick of the paw, which sent the beam zipping off in another direction. Macavity held up his forepaws in explanation. "Just imagine your paws and forelegs are encased in metal gloves or shields. Send your energy to that area of your body, but don't focus on sending it out of your body. Let it pool underneath the skin, and keep it there."

Misto looked down at his own paws, trying to feel and envision these things. He felt a slight warmth on his paws, sliding down into his bones.

"I'm going to send a light zap your way," Macavity warned. "Even if your shields don't work, it won't hurt you."

Misto nodded, preparing himself for the attack. Again, Electra held her breath, silently praying for Misto's safety.

Macavity sent a short spark towards his son. Misto's movements weren't nearly as quick or assured as his father's, but he did hold his paw in front of his chest like a shield. There was a light ping as the spark bounced back and skittered across the concrete floor. Misto gave a relieved smile. Macavity sent another spark, and this time, Misto wasn't prepared—it caught him in the shoulder, causing him to jump back in surprise.

"First rule of dueling: Never let your guard down," Macavity stated. Misto gave a nod of understanding, immediately resetting into a defensive stance.

"Now," Macavity rose to his full height. "Again."

* * *

><p>Brim refused to explain his cryptic replies, and Jemima's body began to hum with the now-familiar feeling of dread. After what seemed like an eternity, the ship finally docked—Carbucketty jumped nimbly onto the loading platform, turning back to catch the ropes that Dina and Bill Bailey tossed to him and tying them to the posts with an efficiency that came from years of experience. As Bill lowered the anchor, Katya pushed the plank over the side, and Carbucketty grabbed the other end, guiding it to the platform.<p>

The captain motioned for the crew to disembark, giving a slight nod to Adelydina, who had drawn the short straw and was chosen to stay with the ship as it stayed moored. Once they were all back on the firm footing of the pier, Brim motioned to a hangar the rested above the seawall, overlooking the harbor. He smiled gently at Jemima.

"After you."

* * *

><p>Teathrice was growing weary; Tumble could sense her strength slowly slipping away with the sunlight, but he knew that she wasn't ready to return to the darkness of Jellylorum's den.<p>

She was lying down now, her chin propped up on her good foreleg as she simply breathed in the cooling air. "You know, Tumblebrutus, I think we've spoken more in the past three days than we ever had in all the years that we've known each other."

He nodded in agreement, "Funny how things change."

"Funny how some things stay the same," the grey queen replied softly. Tumble didn't understand her meaning, but he didn't ask for clarification. Teathrice had been lost in her own thoughts for quite some time now, so he let her continue her wanderings through her own memory.

A soft rustle signaled the approach of another cat, and Teathrice sat up as Tumble's ears pricked forward. Much to his relief, it was Victoria—not Tantomile, who would surely have his hide if she knew that he'd let Teathrice outside the den.

"Good evening," the grey queen called out softly.

"Good evening," Victoria returned, moving closer to them. She wore a smile, but it did not reach her eyes.

"You look full of thought," Teathrice commented. Victoria nodded.

"I am."

Teatrhice didn't press any further. She simply waited as Victoria came to rest on her right side, shifting closer. She'd never had any kits, and Victoria had never really had any parents, so over time, the two had naturally gravitated towards one another. They weren't close enough for Victoria to really consider Teathrice a mother figure, but since the disappearance of Jennyanydots, she had become the closest thing to a mother that Victoria had left.

"I'm pregnant."

* * *

><p>Jemima could feel her blood pounding in her ears, and she cursed her anxiety—how could she hear anything else above the sound of her own racing heart? She gave Brim one last look as he opened the side door to the hangar. He was still wearing a light smile, but suddenly she wondered if all his courtship had simply been a way to gain her trust before thrusting her into some twisted snare.<p>

She entered the hangar, taking a moment to let her eyes adjust to the much darker interior. She heard something, a voice, a strange metallic ping, another odd whirring noise. Cautiously, she rounded a huge stack of shipping pallets.

Her heart stopped in her chest.

It was Macavity.

He was trying to kill Mistoffelees.

* * *

><p>Coricopat stifled a yawn as Munkustrap continued to drone on about the qualities necessary to serve the Tribe as an Elder—fidelity, honor, duty, ad nauseum. Of course, this was the speech that the Jellicle Leader launched into every single time that Notekins O'Malley confronted him with the fact that there were still two vacant Elder seats that needed to be filled. Tantomile and Coricopat had been chosen to replace their parents' positions, but after the disappearances of Mumbletins and Bustopher Jones, no cat had been chosen to take their place. Despite the months that had passed since then, Munkustrap still had not filled the seats. Instead, he claimed that there wasn't anyone who was ready to fulfill the duties and responsibilities associated with such a lofty honor.<p>

The black and white tom fought the urge to stretch out his legs, which were becoming numb from his awkward position atop the hood of the TSE car. He looked around at the other Elders, who were perched atop other pieces of furniture, looking down into the circle created by the junk, the arena in which Munkustrap practiced his oratory. Coricopat could tell that Roary Huffersnuff was holding back what was likely a biting retort, judging from the tom's expression, and he secretly wished that someone would say what they were all thinking—that Munkustrap didn't want to fill the seats because he didn't want two more cats that he would have to bully into accepting his edicts and ratifying them into law. The Elders were once vital parts of the Jellicle law, advisers to the Jellicle Leader and balances to his or her power, but now they were little more than decorative figureheads, kept around to give Munku's reign some semblance of legitimacy.

The last though struck Corico as odd. Of course, Munku was the legitimate heir, the rightful ruler of the Tribe. Still, since his ascension, things had spiraled to the edge of absolute anarchy as the Jellicle way of life crumbled. And yet, no one said anything, because they all feared the reprisal.

He felt Tantomile shift beside him, heard her slow intake of breath, as if she were becoming sick. He turned to her, noticing how pale she'd suddenly become. His body began to hum with that sixth-sense feeling that intuitively warned him when something was going on with his twin.

Something wasn't right.

* * *

><p>"Have you felt them move yet?" Teathrice asked.<p>

Victoria shook her head. "Not yet."

"How far along do you think you are?" The grey queen sat back on her haunches, reaching out with her right forepaw to gently press Victoria's abdomen. Tumblebrutus wasn't sure if he should look away—he knew nothing of the ways of queens and birthing, and he didn't want to offend Victoria.

Just as Teathrice's paw made contact with Victoria's fur, there came a light flutter from her womb. The white queen looked up with wide eyes, "I felt it."

"So did I," Teathrice smiled. She moved her paw to the other side. "Let's see if we can feel more than one."

There came another small kick, and suddenly Teathrice had a flash of insight as a vision danced across her eyes. The light was blinding.

* * *

><p>"Misto!" Jemima rushed forward, seeing nothing, thinking of nothing but saving her cousin, who was valiantly trying to duck and dodge the supernatural blows from the Hidden Paw.<p>

At the sound of her voice, Mistoffelees whirled around, the confusion and surprise evident in his face. However, Macavity had already begun to throw another blue dart his way before he turned and Jemima rushed to block it.

Electra began to rush down the stairs, "No, Jemima, it's—"

Jemima didn't hear her—she was too busy screaming at the sight of the blue beam hurtling towards Mistoffelees' back. She pushed her cousin out of the way, sending him forward to his knees. The bolt hit her square in the chest and she landed on the ground with a dull thud.

"Jemima!" Misto rushed to the crumpled form of his younger cousin. As he reached for her, she suddenly sat up, still trying to shield him from Macavity.

She turned to the gingertom, who held up his paws as if he was trying to explain, but Jemima didn't allow him to get that far. Rising to her full height, she threw out her right forepaw, sending forth a burst of white light from her fingertips.

Macavity was surprised, but he still blocked the beam in time, sending it bouncing off the ceiling, which made Electra halt and retreat back to the safety of the stairs. Brim ducked behind the pallets again, and Misto stared in wonder at the sight before him.

Jemima looked at her own paw, awestruck by her own abilities. She heard another strange whirring sound and looked up to see that Macavity had shot another blue bolt her way. She ducked, rolling out of harm's way as the bolt shattered the stack of pallets behind her, sending Brim bolting for cover again. She threw out her foreleg again, sending out a white zinger before Macavity had time to register it, much less block the bolt. It hit him in his side, causing him to fly back with a small yelp of pain. Jemima moved towards Misto again, her face filled with concern.

"Jemima, don't—"

His words were interrupted by the whirring sound again, and Jemima turned to see Macavity back on his feet, forepaws extended as a thick blue beam pulsed towards her. She mimicked his stance, reaching out with her forepaws and sending a golden beam of her own back. The two flashes collided, shattering and shooting around the room.

This time Electra didn't duck. She simply stood, completely entranced by the lights.

"Saints in Heaviside," she whispered to herself. "What is happening?"

* * *

><p>Tanto's entire body seized up, as she had been struck by a bolt of lightning. Slowly, her muscles stopped contorting, allowing her to sink to the ground. The other cats noticed, and they stepped forward, as if to help her. Her brother stopped them with a motion of his paw. Coricopat did not say anything; he did not touch her. They all waited, holding their breaths. They knew what it meant, and they counted the seconds until Tantomile could speak her prophetic vision.<p>

Tanto's eyes rolled open again as she rested her cheek against the cool hood of the car. Slowly, she raised her head, turning her yellow eyes to meet her twin's.

"The Ancient One is here."

_**~Le Fin.**_

_"Because of tonight, a mystic dies, _

_Because of tonight, evil shall rise_

_An ancient shall come into being, _

_A dead shall return to living_

_Tonight begins a tale of woe—_

_How dark its end, we may never know!"_

_~Tantomile's Prophecy [Full Version of the Vision is located in Chapter 10 of Strange One]_


End file.
